


In The Heights

by TheForgottenDreams



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arguments, Blackouts, Clubbing, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, Dancing, Disapproving Family, F/F, F/M, Fireworks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, In The Heights Au, Loss of Parent(s), Lottery Winning, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Polyamory, Really Close Neighbourhood, Spanish Words, Street Party, french words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'She smiled, grinning at the community she called her home, they all came from different places, their skin tones ranged as did their language and accents, they were full of stories and traditions, quirks and flaws but they were her family. Her crazy family.' </p><p>-</p><p>In which follows a neighbourhood through a series of days. As one family struggles to pay tuition and put down a down payment on an apartment in the city, a struggling shop owner has to balance looking after the neighbourhood's matriarch, pining for two very different but very terrifying girls and escaping the neighbourhood for his home island, Corsica. </p><p>Relationships are tested, love and lust is wrestled with, dreams are made and destroyed, jobs are lost and family connections are remade. </p><p>-</p><p>In The Heights AU no one asked for but was made in my mind anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I just want to apologise for anyone who read this before the second part was added for the quality of the first chapter. It was absolutely terrible and I'm so sorry for that. Since then I've gone through it completely and rewritten a lot of it, so it should be better.  
> Let me know if there are any mistakes please.
> 
> Also since then I've seen the West End production and honestly, it's amazing, I have no words to describe how incredible it was. It was just surreal, I teared up so many times I lost count - and it's really cheap if you're under 25 so definitely go and see it, it's just the best. I really want to go back and see it again because oh my god. All the cast was amazing and the performance of 'Enough' was like a literal volcano going off, it was insane. Go see the show.

“Dzien dobry Feuilly.” Marius said to the figure outside his shop, Feuilly had quite obviously been vandalising the neighbourhood again if the spray paint covering his fingers, hoodie and hair were anything to go by. Marius skipped between languages easily after making it a personal mission to be able to communicate with everyone in their neighbourhood in their native language. So far he knew five languages and was currently working on his sixth. “Been messing up the brick work again?”

“Making art.” Feuilly told him with his familiar eye-roll, eyes shining, splotches of purples, pinks, oranges and reds on his face, watching as Marius tried to pull the grate up, from the shop front.

“Is that what you’re calling it these days?” Marius teased.

“You want some help?” Feuilly asked, fidgeting in that way he did when he felt useless. Marius liked him, even if he did spray paint the grate he had over his shop, Feuilly was a good kid and helped open up on days when his co-worker and cousin was late (i.e. all of them). Plus, he always bought something from his shop, so there’s that too. 

“Please.” Marius grunted, together the two of them pulled the grate open, cursing under their breath at the effort. Marius thanked him, making a note to discount him and get the grate looked at as soon as he had the money. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for Feuilly to follow him in. “I’ll check it out later, what can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to buy something to drink.” Feuilly told him. Marius made his way around the shop, turning on the lights, radio, till, coffee machine. “I can’t feel my hands anymore.”

“The usual?”

“Please.” Feuilly answered with a yawn. 

It took a few minute for the water to heat, but Marius made the tea, taking the payment and then Feuilly was heading off to wherever his day took him – probably bed from the way he dragged his feet, shoes scuffing the pavement, yawning, cans of spray paint clinking in his messenger bag. 

Marius checked the fridges, not hearing their usual comforting hum and assigning the job to Courfeyrac later when he finally made his way into work.

 

“Ooooh, Ooh! Marius! Buenos dias!” Abeula Lamarque’s booming voice rang out through the small shop as she burst inside with the energy of a woman sixty years younger, hair long and silver, freely curling down her back, clothes lively and colourful, eyes bright.

“Abeula, muy buenos!” Marius switched to Spanish, grinning as she pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his cheeks, bangles clacking together as she moved. “The fridge broke so I haven’t got any con leche for the café.”

“Paciencia y fe, used condensed mile – it’s sweet enough no?” She quirked an eyebrow, “It was my mama’s recipe so it’s good, she made it all the time before we got the plane too-“

“Far and ended up in France instead of Spain.” Marius finished nodding with a smile, hugging her tightly, “You’re a genius, thank you.”

“I know, I know.” She pushed him away playfully and went around grabbing her groceries, singing to the radio in her lilting melodies as he grabbed a can of condensed milk.

“The doctor said you haven’t been going to see him.” Marius said as she got to the till. 

“I don’t need him.” She rolled her eyes and yes, that’s where Courfeyrac had picked it up from. He wasn’t surprised since she’d practically raised the two of them when Marius parents had died. 

“That’s not what he says.” Marius countered, scanning the things she wanted to buy through the till, “Have you been taking your medicine?”

“It helps my heart but gives me headaches, I don’t like it.” She told him.

“Abeula, you have to take it.” Marius stressed, handing her the bag, “You know that.”

“I will, okay,” She rolled her eyes again. “I’m fine.”

And then she handed him the money, kissed his cheek and called adios behind her as she hurried through the door, a blur of colour. He shook his head but watched as she danced along the street, cooing at the children running to school, talking to their mothers, wishing them all a good day.

His line of sight was blocked by the towering bulk of Jean Valjean, the ex-con, taxi firm owner and also father of the girl Marius was completely head over heels in love with. Followed by the shorter local police officer, Javert. The two were an unlikely pair but their friendship was strong and genuine like that of the sun and rain.

“Bonjour, Valjean, bonjour Javert.” Marius called as the two of them looked at the food. Marius didn’t know why, they always got the same thing – two café con leche to go and the occasional lottery ticket.

“Bonjour Marius.” Valjean answered with a tired smile, “Do you know when the trains get in?”

“No sorry, mind me asking why?”

“Enjolras is supposed to be home soon and I have this afternoon off after setup and a meeting with the bank so I hope it might be today.” Valjean confessed with a sigh of a person fifty years older than himself. He’d been doing that a lot as of late. 

“Is he not getting a taxi in?” Marius frowned.

“He said it was easier getting a train and the metro, maybe it is I don’t know.” Valjean shrugged.

“He probably wants the time to figure out who to see first and what stories to tell.” Javert offered, “Just as long as he doesn’t cause trouble.”

“It’ll be good to see him again, we haven’t talked in a while.” Marius answered, “He had exams right?”

“Yeah, he’ll have passed them all, I know it.” Valjean smiled, pride and love shinning in his eyes. Looking more like his usual self. 

“We’re all so proud of him.” Marius smiled, thinking back to the days when Abeula looked after Enjolras and his sister whilst their father worked, he’d always done work, pushing harder, learning more. If Marius had to bet on one person changing the world, he’d bet on Enjolras every time. 

“Can I get a lottery today?” Valjean asked, placing the loaf of bread on the side as Marius rang it up on the till, “And two café con leche please?”

“Absolutely.” Marius smiled, getting the lottery ticket and coffees, he fumbled around a little, trying to ignore his nerves but then the pair were on their way, through the door and he could breathe. 

-

“So then Floréal walked into the flat.” Musichetta’s voice floated in through the door before she did herself, her hair falling around her face in tight curls as Éponine followed, their salon uniforms hugging their curves, a deep purple that complimented their rich skin tones. 

“Go on.” Éponine spoke to Musichetta but winked over at Marius and he fought a blush. He was slightly in love with Éponine too and that was his problem: ask out a terrifying blonde or a terrifying brunette?

“So she smells sex and cheap perfume, like one of the little trees in the back of the taxis.” Musichetta went on, golden eyes sparkling with their usual gossip-induced excitement. She’d never lost her Spanish accent and instead it hung to her words thicker than the day she and her mother and sister had arrived almost twenty-four years before.

“Ah no,” Éponine laughed. It was sweet and light and Marius wanted her to laugh all the time. It didn’t fit with her usual exterior all eyeliner, dip dyed, leather jacket glory but it suited her, it showed she was happy and that was something she deserved. They didn’t know exactly what she was hiding from, a few years ago she’s turned up in the middle of the night her two siblings. Azelma and Gavroche – no explanations. 

“She sneaks through the house and hears laughter and voices coming from the bedroom. So she listens and then screams ‘Who’s in there with you Clade? Who?’ and kicks down the door to find him in bed, naked with Mattieu from the café!” 

“No me diga!” Both Éponine and Marius exclaimed, eyes wide, mouths open, goldfish style.

“Is she okay?” Marius asked.

“She went out and wrecked his car.” Musichetta told him, “Trashed the apartment, bleached and dyed her hair pink, like she’d always wanted.”

“I do the same, anyone who cheats on me is going to pay.” Éponine replied, “Can we have two café con leche please Marius?” She brushed the bangs out of her eyes, ends of her black hair a pale lilac, an experiment probably so Musichetta could work on new styles. She looked healthier than ever, now she was eating properly and often, she’d filled out, grown into her features, though she had always been that beautiful.

“Only the best for you ‘Ponine.” He grinned, serving her the drink, skin heating where their fingers brushed. He knew it was a cliché, Grantaire like to remind him of that often.

“Save it for Cosette, you charmer.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled, dimples showing and eyes crinkling up, “But thank you.”

“It’s on the house, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head as she offered him the money. He was aware of Musichetta watching their every move, the gossip forming in her mind, milking the interaction for all it was worth. But oddly enough, he didn’t care.

“You’re sure?” Éponine asked, blinking up at him.

“I’m sure.” He answered, “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

They turned with smiles, Musichetta linking arms with Éponine, ducking down so their heads were together, Marius was sure he could hear her whisper as they left. 

Until-

“Coño!” Éponine yelled, “Watch it Courf’ or next time I’ll take too much off the sides, accidently dye it and dump my coffee on you.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He jumped back from the door, letting them out as they glared, through their smiles took the venom out of it. Just one of them was absolutely terrifying but pair them together and the salon workers were a powerful force to be reckoned with.

“Courfeyrac, you’re late.” Marius scolded, when the younger made his way inside, “I needed everything restocking half an hour ago and the fridges are broken.”

“Yeah but you love me.” Coufeyrac waved a dismissive hand, running into the back room to grab the trolley of stuff he needed to put out, his pink streaks didn’t go unnoticed and the fact they matched his pink tank top, made Marius roll his eyes.

“You need to try be on time, you know.”

“My alarm didn’t go off, I ran into Feuilly and he had to show me his art, it’s really good.” Courfeyrac called running back onto the shop floor, trolley trundling behind him.

“So you’re sure it wasn’t a certain strawberry blond masseuse that caught your eye?”

“Shut up.” Courfeyrac mumbled and Marius was sure he was blushing.

“He’s too old for you, Courf’.” Marius warned, “Let it go and stop letting it make you late.”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking to Courfeyrac about Jehan again.” Grantaire spoke from where he waltzed into the shop, adjusting his tie and shirt though he still managed to look like he’d just rolled out of bed, which he probably just had. The sun was already warm and bright, promising a hot day ahead.

“Of course I was.”

“Isn’t he dating Montparnasse?” Grantaire asked. 

“Well yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t crush on him, which I’m not, I just value his friendship.” Courfeyrac shouted from the back

“Sure. Do you still have to wear a tie? Even if it’s supposed to be the hottest day yet?” Marius asked, turning his attention to Grantaire.

“Yeah, ‘we always wear ties at Valjean’s, you have an issue with that I’ll fire you’ is what Valjean tells us, every day.” Grantaire sighed leaning on the counter, watching as Marius adjusted the chewing gums and other sweets at the front. “How are you?”

“Okay, would’ve been better if someone had been on time to work though.” Marius answered, looking over at him.

“Casse toi.” Courfeyrac called, making Grantaire grin and Marius roll his eyes. 

“Anyway, what can I get you?” Marius asked.

“Can I have-“

“A Milky Way?” Coufeyrac finished from where he was stacking the shelf with more bread, dancing to the radio playing in the background.

“Yeah and a-“

“Le Monde?” Marius smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“And the most important-“

“Boss’ second coffee, one cream, five sugars.” Marius and Coufeyrac chimed in sync, laughing at the face Grantaire pulled.

“Stop it, you’re scary.” Grantaire told them, wrinkling his nose. “Speaking of, has Cosette shown up yet?”

“Shut up.” Marius hissed, cheeks boiling as the blood rushed to them.

“So no, what about Éponine?”

“I hate you.” Marius told him, back turned as he worked the coffee machine.

“I almost ran into her, she threatened me and my hair.” Courfeyrac called, voice scandalised. As long as Grantaire had known her, Éponine had had the ability to look at someone and immediately see how to hurt them in the worst way possible, for Courfeyrac that meant threatening his hair.

“To be fair, she couldn’t ruin it much more.” Marius muttered. 

“Fuck off, just because you have that unfortunate mess on your head and you’re into some miedo women, doesn’t mean you can judge my life choices.”

“But he isn’t into them Courf’ and that’s his problem.” Grantaire cackled along with Courfeyrac as Marius pretended they didn’t exist. “Just tell them how you feel, be an adult about it, it isn’t that hard.”

“Don’t you have work R?” Marius asked. 

“Sure, but Courf’, you’ve got to make something happen, Bahorel has a bet going on at the firm and Marius here, literally breaks my heart as he wastes away, pinning. What if one of them moves or something happened to them? You’d have to live with them never knowing how you feel, woman up and tell them.”

“Woman up?” Courfeyrac asked. 

“Women are terrifying and brave okay.” Grantaire shot back.

“Wait till there’s someone you like, R, then you won’t be so cocky.” Mairus told him.

Grantaire actually laughed then, “Like that’s going to happen, I’m more of a one-night stand guy, people can’t stand this face for long.”

“R, you shouldn’t-” Marius started but squeaked to silence as a familiar voice filled the room. Grantaire never found out what he shouldn’t do.

“No, no, no no.” Cosette walked in, phone against her ear, frown marring her face. Her golden curls trying to escape the ponytail she’d wrangled them into. She looked particularly radiant that day, her “I’ll see you later and we can look at the lease?” Cosette asked, biting her bottom lip, eyes hopeful as she stood by the door. “And then I just need a signature?

“Go for it.” Grantaire whispered, turning back to him.

“No way is he going to.” Coufeyrac commented. 

“Okay, okay, merci, au revoir.” Cosette smiled, hanging up, phone still in hand as she made her way to the counter, hips swinging, purple uniform emphasising her slim figure.

“Salut Cosette,” Grantaire smirked at her.

“Hey R.” She winked back, then reached out and adjusted his tie, tightening it and straightening it, “Dad’ll freak otherwise.”

“Thanks.” Grantaire smiled and pushed away from the counter, to watch the interaction with Courfeyrac.

“You, Marius, owe me a bottle of cold champagne.” Cosette said, turning her hazel eyes on Marius settling her jaw, like she was preparing for a fight.

“You’re moving?” Marius blinked at her.

“It won’t be long now. That was the landlord of the apartment I’m looking at, I’ve got some things to finalise but I should be on my way soon. It’s exciting.” She grinned, “Can I get a café con leche to celebrate?”

“On the house.” Marius answered, turning to make her drink, hiding a blush and feeling of devastation.

“Awh, thanks, you’re a sweetie, Marius.” She beamed, “Today is gonna be so good I can feel it, I just hope Enjolras gets back, we don’t know when he’s home and I can’t wait to see him again, I miss him so much.”

“Valjean asked about the trains earlier.” Marius handed her the coffee.

“He’s worried, I don’t know why, Enjolras was always to most capable one.” She rolled her eyes, “But thanks, your coffee is always amazing I’m going to miss it when I’m gone.”

“And we’ll miss you.” Courfeyrac called.

“Who am I supposed to dance with now ‘Sette?” Grantaire asked. The two peeping over the top of the shelf.

“Irma?” She suggested, laughing as Grantaire pulled a face, “Bless you both, Marius I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. 

She grinned and danced across the shop, the street to the salon. Marius watched her go with a sigh, chin on hand like a lovesick teen. What was he supposed to do now?

“See, tragic.” Grantaire whispered in his ear, making him jump. “Chill man, next you’ll be writing ‘Marius and Éponine forever’ or ‘M plus C equals love’ all over your receipts.”

“Casse toi.” Marius frowned at him, “You’re going to be as late as Courfeyrac if you don’t go to work now.”

“Merde.” Granaire cursed, looking at the clock, “Catch you later.”

Marius rolled his eyes but smiled as his friend ran out of the door. He sighed, morning rush over but couldn’t shake the feeling, something was going to happen that day.

 

-

 

Enjolras’ suitcase felt impossibly heavy as he heaved it off the train, bottom lip between his teeth, palms sticky and stomach twisting, eyes flitting around the platform for a familiar face. He ran a hand through his blond curls, curls people at university always accused him of bleaching due to the richness of his skin tone. But here was different, here people would never dream of being so disrespectful, here was home to a mix of ethnicities, here was home.

He pressed his lips together to try to stop the oncoming smile and the bubble of joy that brought as he walked across the platform, suitcase trailing behind him. It wasn’t a long walk to his father’s taxi firm, though that meant he had to deal with the sun as it blazed down, oppressive and stifling. He rolled his shoulders under his t-shirt, walking down the streets that were ingrained in that back of his mind, streets that had been full of people last time he’d walked down them, people who loved him, who were proud of him, who wouldn’t worry about him because he was the one who had gotten out, the one to change the world, the first to go to university, the first to do something else with their life.

The buildings rose into the sky, casting a much appreciate shadow onto the hot, pot-holed, graffiti-stained tarmac and he couldn’t help the grin just being back there brought to his face. He quickened his pace, eager to get home to see his family. They didn’t know he was arriving that day, just that he’d be back at some point. He’d wanted it to be a surprise. 

He turned the corner, the railway bending away, the buildings thickening, the garage at the corner, next to the salon, both opposite the corner shop, the café a few doors down, the old book and record shop. A few blocks away the clubs and nightlife, a restaurant or two. He took a deep breath in, rehearsing what he would say and fighting the nerves clawing at his stomach. He felt sick, the sun making him too warm, his palms slipped against the plastic of the handle of his bag, trailing behind him, wheels clicking on the uneven pavement.

“Well, look who came back to the Barrio!” A cheerful voice asked and oh god, it hadn’t changed at all in the time he’d gone, it was the same and he loved it for that. He looked up and felt himself grin seeing Abeula Lamarque leaning over the railing. 

“Abeula, hi!” He called up to her, he couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop the feeling of rightness filling his chest. He was home. 

“You look well.”

“And you, the recipes you sent were a Godsend.” Enjolras sighed. “I couldn’t have gone on without them.”

“You always need a taste of home.” She smiled back, “We need to have tea and you can tell me all about it. Right now. Get Marius, Courfeyrac can watch the shop. My orders.”

“Okay.” Enjolras laughed and then she disappeared into her apartment with a swish of brightly coloured fabric. He smiled and wheeled his suitcase into the Bodega. 

-

“Okay, no it’s fine, tell him to rest up.” Valjean sighed as he hung up the phone, rubbing his temples in an attempt to keep the stress at bay. He didn’t need this, any of this. Not today.

“What’s up boss?” Grantaire asked from where he’d been making tea, plonking one in front of Valjean and one for himself.

“Bossuet tripped and sprained his ankle, he’s currently at the hospital and can’t come in today so I have no one to man the dispatch whilst I’m out this afternoon.” Valjean grunted, he may not see much potential in Grantaire, but he did make excellent tea. 

“I can take over it.” Grantaire volunteered. 

“You don’t speak Spanish.” Valjean looked back at him.

“Well no, but I’ve spent a lot of time listening I’m sure I can respond.” He answered, looking just the wrong side of confident, “And there’s always Google translate.”

“This is going to be a bad idea,” Valjean sighed again, running the pros and cons in his head, he’d be down a driver but he needed the meeting at the bank. “But you’re all I’ve got.”

“Please, I promise I won’t mess it up.” Grantaire bit his bottom lip trying to stop from smiling.

“Fine okay, if you do I want your head on a stick.” Valjean decided, yup, this was going to backfire on him but honestly at this stage, it was his only option.

“Thank you, monsieur, you won’t regret it.” Grantaire grinned. 

“I’m already starting to, go then, I have to be off for this meeting.”

He gulped his tea in one and shooed Grantaire into the dispatch booth. As he left the firm he was left with the impending feeling that everything was going to go wrong. 

-

“It’s good to see you again E.” Marius smiled at him, touching his arm gently.

“And you, Marius, talk to you later.” He scrunched up his nose. He and Marius had an easy friendship provided they stayed away from politics, Enjolras and Cosette went to Abeula’s after school whilst their dad worked and Marius lived there as she raised him. They’d studied together and practiced Spanish, talking so quickly Cosette had trouble keeping up and stormed out more often than not. 

Enjolras hugged Marius before pushing him back towards his work, trundling his case behind him as he went into the taxi firm. It offered some protection from the relentless sun, his legs took him to the side door, still looking shabby after so long, but he found that he liked it, it was like he’d never been away. He pushed it open and slipped inside, leaving his suitcase by the door. 

“Dad?” He called out, voice shaking, he could hear someone talking on the dispatch, the door having been left open, the smell of cars and petrol filled his nose, and okay, so he hadn’t missed that. “You here? Hello?” He called, walking through the small kitchen, only used to warm up lunches and to make drinks, though to the garage where various taxis were parked or in state of repairs, across the room the office sat, he saw a figure, too small to be his father, but the inky curls brought a smile to his face. 

“Check, one, two, three, check, one, two, three…” The voice had no particular accent which confirmed his suspicions. He weaved between the cars silently, aware the speaker didn’t know he was there. “Bonjour, hola, this is R on the dispatch, yo atención yo, attention. Okay, okay, we got an incident on Rue de la Pomme, we got road construction between Lalande and Blagnac causing disruptions– good luck with those lights. Hold up a minute -” 

“Taire, salut-” Enjolras started, hand on the doorframe as he leaned into the small room. 

Grantaire span around in his seat, jumping out of it, curls flying and mouth turning into a smile. “Enjolras! You’re home!” 

Enjolras sucked in a deep breath, how could someone have changed so much in a year? Grantaire was no longer the scrappy teenager he’d been before, always looking sleep deprived and half-fed, instead he’d grown up. He’d gotten hot, Enjolras realised, really freaking hot. His jaw stronger, nose now crooked from being broken, chipped front tooth, muscles hid under his t-shirt where had once been nothing. He seemed more at home in his skin, relaxed, comfortable. The dark circles under his eyes were gone and his face had filled out, curls longer and more wild than he remembered. His face was mismatched, but somehow it worked and the end result was something Enjolras found very aesthetically pleasing.

But it was the things that had stayed the same that amazed Enjolras most, his curls were as dark as ever, skin still it’s smooth dark tan, his dimples still popped when he smiled. His eyes were as beautiful, one as blue as cleaning liquid, the other the colour of tree bark, they were still mixed with joy and mischief, though signs of stress lingered around the edges. His hands were still covered in paint-splatters so Enjolras assumed he still kept that as a hobby. His art had always been amazing. 

“I am.” Enjolras found himself nodding, back, relaxing in a way he hadn’t all year. It felt natural to be here, surrounded by the smell of car grease and Grantaire. “Have you seen my Dad?”

“He went to a meeting at the bank, but he’s got the day off. I have control of the radio because Bossuet hurt himself.” He answered, Enjolras turned to leave, but Grantaire’s voice stopped him, “It’s good to see your face.”

“And yours, you’ve grown up a lot.” Enjolras told him, still unable to take in the change because damn.

“Age and experience does that to you.” The brunet quipped, smirking and oh God, that was going to kill him.

“So you’re what, twenty-two now?” Enjolras asked, quirking an eyebrow. Ignoring the urge to run over and kiss Grantaire senseless. It was so nice to be home.

“Don’t remind me.” Grantaire pulled a face, scrunching up his nose – it was oddly endearing.

“Do anything special?”

“Just went out with the Bahorel and the others to the Corinthe.” Grantaire replied, “But, that makes you nineteen right?” 

“It does.” Enjolras nodded.

“Awh.” Grantaire cooed, scrunching his nose up at Enjolras who rolled his eyes. “Little baby, all grown up at university.”

“I’m not that much younger than you.” 

“Sure, how is university?

“Lots of tests and studying.” Enjolras sighed, leaning against the doorframe, wondering if he should rearrange himself but not remembering how actors and actresses stood in movies when they wanted to be seductive.

“Well I won’t push why you don’t want to tell me the truth but work on your lying for your family okay?” Grantaire told him, his mouth falling into a flat line. Enjolras gawped at him, mouth falling open. 

“How-” 

“Wait, you used to run this dispatch right?” Grantaire’s eye brightened as he cut Enjolras off, clearly wanting to not talk about how he could see through Enjolras so easily. Enjolras found he didn’t want to know the answer, in case Grantaire knew what he was thinking.

“A few times.” Well maybe more than that, his father did own the whole company, but whatever. He smiled slightly, unsure where Grantaire was going with this, accepting the change in topic happily. 

“Check my technique? This is the first time I’ve been allowed on and I’m worried I’m messing it up.” Grantaire bit his bottom lip and his hands fidgeted, Enjolras knew how it felt, to be on the radio for the first time, even if the cabbies were the only ones to hear. Also, Grantaire looked adorable, how could he say no?

Enjolras nodded, walking into the room, taking the extra seat and the headphones Grantaire passed to him. He got comfortable as Grantaire pressed the buttons on the board, moving the microphone between them.

“Yo, there’s been an accident on Avenue de Rangueil right near Parc du Sacré-Coeur and don’t get stuck on the rubber-necking on Route d’Agde near the roundabout to Marcel Doret, damn, a car wreck says eye witnesses. The authorities are clearing up as we speak.” Grantaire recited, voice making the words sound melodic, like a rap and not just a traffic announcement, “But listen up, I have a special guest, live and direct from his year away up north, so let’s welcome him back. He’s looking really stressed but he’s still the neighbourhood’s best, Enjolras! Say hello?”

“Hello, morning all, yo! I hope you have a good day, okay, the traffic is a mess so drive safe. The Northern Exit out of the city is backed up due to a crash father up the motorway, but traffic is moving slowly. The South is your best friend if you catch the lights just right.” Enjolras grinned, reading the updates on the screen as he fell back into the routine, “And tune into R’s updates regularly for more information.”

“Honk your horns, he’s actually smiling. We did it!” Grantaire cheered, their eyes meeting, causing them to burst out laughing. 

“I smile sometimes.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, sure. For those of you who want to know it was phenomenon.” Grantaire laughed. 

“Your technique is good.” Enjolras told him, “You don’t need my help.” 

“Because I’ve spent four years listening to you – you’re the pro.” Grantaire smirked.

“That’s overrated but thanks. I better go, find my Dad and Cosette” Enjolras told him, untangling the headphones from his curls as Grantaire watched, amused, “Thank you for the warm welcome R, it’s made my day.”

“Anytime, Enjy.” Grantaire smiled, “Take it easy, school’s out and you look like you need a break. You could chill here for a little longer? If you want to put off something, let your nerves settle. Plus, it’s hot outside and the A.C. is on.”

“That would be nice.” Enjolras nodded, settling back into the seat. “What are we doing next”?

 

-

 

“Cosette, your plans?” Abeula Lamarque asked, flicking through one of the magazines as Cosette, took the rollers out of her hair, long, silky and a kind of grey that shone like silver. Abeula was undeniably beautiful, holding a certain energy and liveliness that Cosette vowed to be like when she was her age.

“I’m saving up; I’ve got almost enough for an apartment in the centre of the city but I need the money for the security deposit and the first three months’ rent. I’ve got some interviews lined up with the theatre and some well-known salons as well so I’ll be working over there.” Cosette explained, feeling herself relax, all she’d ever wanted was to see the world and get out of the barrio, “One day that train is going to drive me away from here or I’ll get a limousine and drive away in style. It won’t be long; I can feel it.”

“But the block’ll lose its prettiest girl.” Musichetta pouted from the other side of the room where she cut away at Carla’s hair. “The boys’ll miss you and we’ll miss hearing about how you make them ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ all night long.”

“You say that like you and ‘Ponine aren’t absolutely stunning.” Cosette fired back, cocking a hip and raising an eyebrow at her. Because both she and Éponine were beautiful in very different ways, Musichetta had a crazy, chaotic kind of beauty to her, with her made hair, mischievous eyes and wicked laugh it was plain to see, whereas Éponine had a harder kind of prettiness to her, she didn’t look delicate like Cosette, she looked strong, like a girl whose heart you couldn’t break, but she could break yours so easily.

“Verdad.” Abeula added and Cosette grinned, high fived her and took more rollers out of her hair.

“No me diga!” Musichetta exclaimed, her Spanish upbringing and accent falling into her words, making them all smile, “You’re both too sweet.”

“But we will lose one of our favourite friends.” Éponine added from where she was booking in another client at the desk, moving to the music playing in the background.

“And one of my best Guinea pigs.” Jehan called from where he was painting Montparnasse’s nails, their resident beautician and masseuse. His strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a fishtail plait, eyes locked onto his task as he coated each nail in bright pink and purple. 

“You’ll be fine without me, Jehan, there are tons of people who’ll want you to practise on them and I’ll still keep in touch, ‘Poninne, I couldn’t live without you lot.” Cosette told them, returning her attention back to Mademoiselle Lamarque, “I just think if my brother got out, I can do the same. He’s set the bar with university but if I can get out and work, that’s good enough.” 

“But what about Marius?” Musichetta asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“What about Marius?” Cosette shot back, “We’re friends that’s it.”

“Sure…” Éponine raised an eyebrow at her.

“We are.” She answered, pulling some more rollers out of Abeula’s hair. “You might want to ask yourself the same question Éponine.” 

“Stop talking mierda Cosette.” Éponine answered, rolling her eyes.

“Speaking of Marius, I heard he had sex with Irma.” Musichetta told them, eyes gleaming as they did when she had a particularly juicy piece of gossip. She seemed to know everything as soon as it happened like a real life Gossip Girl. Cosette wouldn’t put it past her to have spies. 

“As if he’d go out with a skank like that.” Cosette pulled a face.

“He’s got standards ‘Chetta.” Éponine replied. 

“Just wanted to see what you’d say.” Musichetta raised her eyebrows, grinning because she’d gotten the reactions she wanted. Jehan cackled in the background. 

“Cabrona.” Éponine muttered, though she was laughing, Musichetta threw a hairbrush at her, missing completely.

“Enjolras is back soon, no?” Abeula spoke up, Cosette didn’t notice the knowing slant to her smile or the mischief dancing with the interest and pride in her eyes. 

“Yeah, soon,” Cosette smiled, tucking a blond curl out her face, “He hasn’t let us know yet, but he’ll be back for the summer and then off to university again.” 

“You miss him?” Abeula asked, blinking at her in the mirror.

“Obviously, he’s my twin, it was weird at first but then I got used to it I guess.” She answered, “Papa still misses him a lot, he hasn’t slept well since he’s been gone, he’s too worried, but he’s proud, you can see it when he talks about Enjolras.”

“We’re all so proud of him.” Éponine smiled, settling in one of the chairs not in use, between Cosette and Musichetta, the person making a booking having long gone.

“He’s the one that got out.” Musichetta drawled, smiling as she cut her client’s hair.

“The one to change the world!” Jehan hooted.

“And if he can get out, I can do the same. I know it.” Cosette sighed dreamily, “It won’t be long now.” 

 

-

 

“Cosette?” Enjolras spoke, entering the salon, his sister had her back to him as she tidied one of the hair stations but her eyes met his in the mirror and she squealed, turning and diving into his arms in a blur of purple and gold.

“Enjolras!” Her laughter filed his ears as he moved them around in a kind of dance to the radio in the background, jumping up and down. 

The sounds of her excitement brought Musichetta, Éponine and Jehan out of the backroom and they too dived at him, pulling him and his sister into a group hug. They squeezed tightly, not wanting to let him go and he grinned, his happiness bubbling in his chest. They smelt like hairspray, nail-polish, perfume and coffee, like home. 

They pulled back and grinned at him and he beamed back. 

“Oh my god, you’re here, you’re back.” Cosette breathed, then frowned, she slapped his arm. She hadn’t changed at all whilst he’d been gone, still as stunning with her golden complexion and hazel eyes, she’d maybe gotten taller, seemed happier than before, he wasn’t sure. “Why didn’t you say? We’ve been wondering for weeks!”

“I only finished my last exam yesterday.” He told her, lying seamlessly, hoping she wasn’t as perceptive as Grantaire, “I got out as soon as I could, I travelled all night and got here this morning.” 

“And where have you been since then, mi amigo?” Musichetta raised an eyebrow, again she was the same feisty character she had been, her hair seemed wilder, her eyes more golden. “Seeing as it’s now lunch time.”

“I got tea with Abeula and Marius.” Enjolras replied.

“Abeula! But she was in here and she didn’t say!” Cosette explained.

“I asked her not to, I wanted it to be a surprise.” Enjolras smiled.

“And then what? Abeula only just left so you haven’t been there all morning.” Musichetta raised an eyebrow.

“I went to the firm.”

“But its Papa’s day off.” Cosette frowned at him.

“I went looking but they said that, I got talking to some of the guys there, helped on the dispatch.” Enjolras shrugged, “Then I was going to go home, but I figured I couldn’t not see you four – the most beautiful girls and guy in the barrio.”

“Now he’s sweet talking.” Éponine smirked. Out of the three of them she’d changed the most, no longer as scrawny or underfed as she had once been, she was happier and freer. 

Jehan raised his eyebrows at Enjolras, laughing as he accused him, “If that isn’t guilty behaviour I don’t know what is.”

“What’re you trying to hide Enjolras?” Musichetta narrowed her eyes, putting her hands on her hips.

“Lay off him, he just got back.” Cosette rolled her eyes, turning to her brother, “You going home?”

“Yeah, this is kind on the way.” 

“Cosette, chou, go with him.” Musichetta told her, “You’re not going to focus on work when you’re thinking about all the bonding you and Enjy here have to do, and we’re not that busy.”

“You sure?”

“Sí, sí.” She answered, waving a dismissive hand.

“We’ll cope fine.” Éponine told her, throwing her bangs out of her face. 

“Gracias!” Cosette cheered, grinning, her teeth glinting white in the sunlight.

“But you’ve got to come in sometime soon.” Jehan told Enjolras, pointing a slender finger in his direction. “We need to catch up.”

“Of course.” Enjolras promised him with a smile. 

“Now scat, because I want my lunch.” Musichetta told them, though the way she beamed took the harshness out of her words. “Go to your Papa.”

“Adios ‘Sette, Adios Enjy.” Éponine called.

“Adios.” They chorused. 

 

-

 

“Papa, guess whose home?” Cosette shouted into their house, still cramped but cosy. The stairs looked as creaky as ever and narrower than he remembered, the living room was still brightly lit and open, the computer he’d done so much homework on still on the desk, the sofas still in the same place, bookshelves still crammed full to bursting, their childhood art still on the walls. 

“He’s home?” Valjean asked, his voice coming from the kitchen at the back of the house, they heard him washing his hands, heard him hurrying to the door as they shucked their shoes.

“I’m home.” Enjolras grinned, as his dad appeared in the doorway a frilly apron around his broad chest, spatula in hand – it might’ve looked ridiculous but Valjean had always taught them to disregard gender roles.

Enjolras had just enough time to look at him, see the greyness of his hair and the tiredness in his eyes before the three of them were hugging. A mush of his family, he smiled despite the nerves writhing in his blood, making him feel sick. 

They broke apart and moved to the kitchen, settling around the kitchen table, stained with paint from various art projects and food stains, the chunk out of the left leg still missing after some accident no one dared admit to, the burn mark where Cosette put the iron, there were more scratches and stains, ones he didn’t know the origin of, but the ones he remembered where there still. It made him happy.

“So how has everyone been?” Enjolras asked.

“Fine.” Valjean told him, “Nothing much has changed.”

“Embustero. Musichetta and Bossuet started dating and then Bossuet hurt himself and had to go to hospital and they met a doctor there called Joly and they’re dating him as well now.” Cosette told him, eyes gleaming with the excitement of sharing gossip. “Papa and Javert got super close and Javert is always over here so get used to that, Courfeyrac has been pinning for Jehan, Bahorel is the usual loudmouth. Floréal is single after Claude cheated on her with Mattieu.”

“From the café?” Enjolras’ eyes widened. 

“Yup.” Cosette nodded, “Éponine got custody of Gav’ and ‘Zelma. She keeps using you as an example to motivate them to do well at school, she’s trying to give them the best start, bless her. Grantaire’s mother died earlier in the year, he drank a lot but he’s stopped and he’s better now, he hasn’t had any relationships but he’s doing good, right? Papa?”

“He was on the dispatch today.” Valjean relented. 

“I know.” Enjolras nodded. 

“What? How?” Cosette asked, leaning towards him, legs bouncing, eager to know the details. 

“I went in looking for Dad and he was there, he wanted me to help him whilst he was on air, so I did. I made a guest appearance.” Enjolras explained, willing himself not to blush – that alone would tell her more than his words ever could. 

Valjean narrowed his eyes, “Did he do okay?”

“He was great, it seems like a perfect job for him and I know he had a lot of fun.” Enjolras answered, thinking strategically about what he could give away, “He’s grown up a lot since I’ve been gone.”

“Hmm.” His dad grunted, oddly Enjolras found that irritated him.

“How are you both?” Enjolras asked them, pushing his annoyance away, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Good, I’ve nearly got enough to get the apartment in the city.” Cosette smiled dreamily, “I can’t wait.”

“And you, dad?” Enjolras prodded, aiming to keep the conversation away from him as much as he could, distracting Cosette with herself was usually his main strategy. His father was a different matter though.

“Fine, I’ve been baking.” Valjean replied, voice gruff. 

“In this heat?” both of the twins exclaimed at the same time, sharing a look and smiling.

“The windows are open and it’s not that hot; we’re having a barbeque tomorrow because you’re back Enjolras – we need to welcome you home.” Valjean told him, smiling now a little like he used to, “Invite who you want.” 

“So basically the whole block right?” Enjolras teased. 

“Within reason.” His father sighed but he was smiling. They knew he loved their block parties as much as they did, there was something about the whole community rallying together, celebrating with each other that appealed to them all. 

Enjolras locked eyes with Cosette and grinned, “Okay.”

 

-

“Marius?” Cosette cheered, barrelling into the bodega in a whirl of blonde curls and floral perfume. She’d changed since she’d finished work into one of her favourite dresses and if she’d reapplied her makeup to impress a certain someone, who needed to know?

“Back so soon, chica?” Coufeyrac’s lilting voice answered her and she turned to him with a smile. He was perched on a stool behind the till, flicking through a fashion magazine lazily, the radio playing in the background and a fan attempting to cool the air in the corner, but really just moving the heat around. 

“Oui, do you know where your boss is?” She asked, wetting her lips and smiling. 

“I don’t know where he is, but I do know he was wondering what a fine lady, such as yourself, would be doing tomorrow night?” Courfeyrac asked, watching her curiously, putting the magazine he’d been reading down – from what Cosette saw it was glossy and had some celebrities face splashed over it. She figured Marius would be somewhere listening, probably in the back so she raised her voice and twirled a curl around her finger, leaning on the desk. 

“Does he dance?” She asked.

“That’s one word for it.” He laughed.

“Well, my brother got back today so we’re having a barbeque tomorrow which I’m inviting both of you to, but afterwards we could go dancing, check out some fireworks, hang around the block, maybe go back to his place.” She told him. “Let him know for me?”

“I can do that.” Courfeyrac nodded.

“Merci, ma puce.” She laughed. “I’ve gotta go inv-”

“Courfeyrac!” Marius shouted walking to onto the shop floor, phone in hand. He beamed seeing Cosette and she couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that graced her face afterwards, “We sold a winning lotto ticket for ninety-six thousand euros.” 

“No me diga!” Courfeyrac exclaimed.

“That’s insane.” Cosette gasped

“Someone on our block won!” Marius cheered. 

“Oh mon Dieu, what I’d do with that money, I never win shit though,” Cosette sighed dreamily. That would open her whole life for her, “I’d get my apartment and you wouldn’t see me again for starters. I wouldn’t work just live the high life in the city, maybe go visit Paris.” 

“Better you didn’t win then. It’s not enough to live on permanently.” 

“Why, what would you do with it?” She asked, cocking a hip and an eyebrow. His face flushed freckles standing out against the sun—kissed pink, rose and tan, beautiful. His eyes were a warm hazel, long eyelashes shielding them as he looked back at her, brown hair falling over his face, like an adorable puppy.

“Most of it would save the store from financial ruin, I’d finally fly to Corsica see what it was like, try to find my roots and see where my parents lived, what their lives were like there. Courf’ you’d be the youngest tycoon in this barrio and the rest I’d give to Abeula.” Marius explained, brushing the hair from his face.

“Nah, I’d regenerate the block, get some kind of wireless Wi-Fi, get the kids a better education, teach them about gentrification otherwise this place’ll be dead in a year.” Courfeyrac told them, “I’d rebel, make a campaign, things need to change around here.”

“You’re so cute, Courf’.” Cosette cooed, scrunching up her nose and smiling at him.

“It’s not enough for that.” Marius told him, a little grumpily. 

“What’s not enough?” Grantaire asked, striding into the shop. The clock told Cosette it was his lunch break, she moved back, leaning a hip against the counter as he stood next to her.

“Marius sold a lottery ticket for ninety-six thousand euros.” Cosette told him.

“Damn, that’d be nice.” Grantaire sighed, “I’d go enrol in a university, maybe a business degree maybe art or drama. Earn enough so I’m richer than your daddy, ‘Sette. I’d make it on stage or maybe just go on holiday, take a break from driving people around all day.”

“Exactly.” Marius said.

“It’s not enough to live on, but it’d be nice to have.” Grantaire shrugged.

“Well, I’ll leave you with these fun sponges, Courf.” Cosette told him, raising her eyebrows at him, “See you later guys.”

“Bye Cosette.” they chorused as she left, sighing as the sun hit her skin outside, she stretched, listing as Courfeyrac told Marius of their date, then started moving across the road, the three of them celebrating with shouts and yells, she smiled as she pushed open the door to the salon.

 

-

 

“So how was university?” Valjean asked his son as he pottered around the kitchen, Enjolras had changed into shorts and a thin t-shirt, after leaving his bag in his room – the weather too hot for long trousers. He was now settled at the kitchen table drinking lemonade and watching their cat chase a bug outside.

“Fine.” Enjolras replied, trying to ignore the knots his stomach had turned into, drowning his guilt with lemonade, “I finished my exams yesterday. They went okay.”

“Just fine and okay?” Valjean glanced at him, concern etched into his face, “You’ve been gone a year, no stories, no new friends? I thought you’d be bursting at the seams with tales and knowledge. You used to talk for hours about what you’d learnt.”

“I made one friend, he’s called Combeferre, he’s a med-student. My other flatmates and classmates didn’t like me, they made lots of comments about the way I look.” Enjolras sighed. “I forgot the world isn’t as accepting as our little barrio.”

“Give me some details.” Valjean pleaded, failing to understand how Enjolras had gone away so excited and come back so worn out, like a shell of his former self, he didn’t shine so bright, so fiercely. It was disconcerting.

“It’s just not what I expected.” Enjolras exclaimed, voice thick with emotions. Anger, tiredness, sadness. Valjean frowned.

“How?”

“They speak a different kind of French, I didn’t realise how diluted and Spanish our French was so I barely understood anything they said all year. They’re all narrow-minded and accused me of fake tanning and bleaching my hair because they’ve never heard of The Solomon Islands. It didn’t bother me at first but then with exam stress and tiredness and homesickness, it got to me.” Enjolras explained, “It’s too hard and I can’t cope and I spent so long working on my two jobs that I didn’t get to read the books I was supposed to so I dropped out. You want some help?”

“What?”

“Do you want help? I feel useless sat here.” 

“No, you know what. You dropped out?” Valjean turned, eyes full of surprise and anger and there it was, disappointment. Enjolras tried to ignore the way it stabbed into his gut, hurting as much as he thought it would.

“Yeah…” Enjolras swallowed, sipping his drink slowly, avoiding his dad’s eyes, “I got two jobs.”

“I thought we said you were getting one only.”

“It didn’t pay enough so I got two. But then I didn’t have time to read the books I bought for my course and I feel behind and I lost my scholarship and we can’t afford to pay the tuition anyway, don’t even pretend we can, I know you and Cosette have been living cheap, but it’s not just that it’s hard.”

“What did you think you were going to do back here?” Valjean asked, voice louder than before, he was aware he was shouting, but he couldn’t calm down. He’d failed his son.

“Get a job, work.” Enjolras sighed, “I don’t know.”

“And waste a year?” Valjean pressed his lips together, Enjolras looked like he wanted to be sick. Valjean felt the same.

“I’ll get a job in the city, explain what happened, at least I have some experience.”

“With what degree?”

“I haven’t worked it out yet, okay? But there’s night school I could go to.” Enjolras shouted back, eyes tormented, and still reluctant to look at him. Valjean wanted to scream at him, wanted to shake him into sense, but he restrained, instead clutching the pitcher of lemonade tighter.

“I can’t believe you’d waste your shot like that.” Valjean took a deep breath in, “After all I did for you.”

“Well, it’s my life to mess up, not yours. So I can do what I want.” Enjolras got up, the urge to flee as strong as his heartbeat, he pushed past his father to get out of the kitchen, “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

“Where are you going?” his father’s voice floated down the hall to him.

“Out, I’ll be back sometime.” Enjolras slammed the door shut behind him, putting his shoes on, running as soon as his feet touched the tarmac. 

-

 

“Ninety-six thousand?” Musichetta exclaimed, eyes widening as Cosette told them the news, loving the fact she had gossip Musichetta didn’t know yet. It was a rarity and a huge victory and she was going to rub it in her face for weeks now. 

“Yeah. What’d you do with it if you won?” Cosette asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Esa pregunta es tricky.” Musichetta muttered, burrowing her brows and thinking.

“What about you ‘Ponine? Jehan?” Cosette questioned. 

“Ninety-six thousand? Buy new stuff for Gav and Zelma – school books and clothes, things they need - maybe move apartments. Definitely take them abroad, maybe go to Puerto Rico, see what it’s like compared to here.” Éponine answered, looking Cosette in the eye, “Save it otherwise and put it towards their uni funds.”

“Go traveling, get inspiration for poetry, maybe launch my own anthology.” Jehan sighed, from where he’d been changing towels in the massage room. “Take a break basically, run away for summer.”

“I’d get a boob job, go on holiday with my boys back to Spain, show them around my old home.” Musichetta told them, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Renew the lease for the salon, maybe get a house in the suburbs.”

“Get a brand new weave.” Éponine gestured to her curls, running a hand through the dyed ends.

“Or maybe just bleach it all.” Musichetta shrugged, holding her hair up with one hand, striking a pose and pouting like a model.

“No, flower crowns darlings, flower crowns.” Jehan shook his head.

“You’re freaks.” Cosette laughed. 

“What would you do?”

“Well you wouldn’t see me again; I’d be downtown in my studio.” Cosette sighed dreamily, “Get out the barrio, speaking of, you two need to come to Enjolras’ dinner tomorrow, bring ‘Ponine bring Gav’ and ‘Zelma, ‘Chetta bring your boys, Jehan, Courfeyrac will be there. It’ll be a blast.”

“Cosette!” Jehan exclaimed, going the same colour as his nail polish: Salmon Pink.

“Obviously we’ll be there.” Musichetta told her, putting a hand on Jehan’s shoulder and laughing.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Éponine nodded, grinning at Jehan’s reaction. Cosette just giggled in their direction. 

 

-

 

“Enjolras?” a voice spoke, he heard footsteps approaching him and he looked up, tears filling the bottom of his eyes, through the blur he made out black curls and odd eyes. He felt himself smile despite the tear tracks on his face, the red eyes and shaking hands.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras breathed.

“What’s wrong?” The brunet asked, crouching down in front of where Enjolras was sat on the floor, eyes full of concern, but unlike his father, Grantaire’s concern made him want to reach out and touch his hair, or run his fingers over his cheek or kiss him. Merde.

“I told my dad, I dropped out of university.” Enjolras confessed, pressing his lips together, blinking up at him through his lashes, Grantaire had a really kind face, open and friendly. One he wanted to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night, in happiness, in sleep, in passion, in love. “I wasn’t going to until later, but I couldn’t lie, so I told him.”

“Mierde.” Grantaire gasped, shock climbing onto his face, he fell backwards, sitting crossed legged in front of Enjolras. The blond was conscious of the dirt that must be marking Grantaire’s work trousers but Grantaire wasn’t a child, he could make his own decisions, “He didn’t take it well?”

“No.” Enjolras scoffed a laugh, wet and callous, a bitter parody of what his normal laughter was like. Grantaire hated it, hated the broken sound, the heartbreak on Enjolras’ face, the way Enjolras felt he had no place to go but an alleyway to cry over this. 

“Do you mind me asking why you dropped out?” 

“I had two jobs to pay for the things I needed, textbooks, rent, food, that kind of thing, but I spent all the time trying to get money that I didn’t have time to read the books, I got less than I needed on one assignment, just one, and I lost my scholarship. I dropped out months ago and I’ve stayed with my friend until I had to come home.”

“I don’t believe you.” Grantaire told him, “You’re Enjolras, you never give up, you never get bad results. You study hard and change the world. You’re amazing.”

“It’s not just the work, it’s the people as well, they aren’t as accepting as here because they’re not exactly diverse, so they assumed I either bleached my hair or got spray tans, they made comments all the time. It hurt.” Enjolras explained, “Their French is different too. Here it’s mixed with Spanish and I hadn’t noticed until I got there and I couldn’t understand much. They thought I was dumb.”

“You’re the smartest person I know.” Grantaire told him, honesty in his eyes. “I know what you mean with the language, it’s similar here, I was born French so I was brought up speaking French but then Mum and me moved here and suddenly there’s like three types of Spanish going on and I struggle everyday with it. But you have to get on, ask people what they mean, explain what it’s like.”

“At least I’m not alone in that.” Enjolras sighed, looking at his hands to avoid Grantaire and his beautifully odd eyes, his concern so unguarded and open it hurt. “I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.”

“Do you trust me?” Grantaire asked, getting up, Enjolras looked up at him, blinking. 

“Yes.” He answered immediately, not having to think of the answer. 

“Then come on.” Grantaire held his hand out and Enjolras stared at him for a moment before a timid smile curled onto his lips, and he took Grantaire’s hand, calloused and paint stained, but it felt right in his own, the brunet hauled him up like he was weightless. “We’re going on an adventure.” 

 

-

“He dropped out?” Javert parroted, frowning as he and Valjean sat in the latter’s kitchen, drinking coffee. Javert was on his break when Valjean called saying he needed to speak to him and he turned up despite promising himself he wouldn’t – though the distress in the other man’s voice had pulled at his heart and he’d turned up, out of breath and quickly.

“I failed him” Valjean told him, his face appeared sunken, his skin slightly ashen and he looked older than he ever had done before. His stress and worry etched onto his face clearly. “If I could have paid for his books, he’d be there, shining. But I can’t pay tuition now, now he lost the scholarship and I think that’s the main reason he dropped out. He blamed it on dialect and his classmates, but when has he ever cared what anyone thought of him, when hasn’t he loved a challenge?”

“Not as long as I’ve known him.” Javert replied, unable to voice his concern for the other man, his worry and his concern. He didn’t know how to express how he felt and honestly, it scared him. 

“Inútil, inutile, useless. That’s what I am.” Valjean sighed, “I promised my own father that I’d make something of my life, I had ideas but I ended up not being a farmer like I should have, like he wanted, I came here instead, I built a taxi firm of all things and took in two kids that aren’t mine, two kids I can’t even provide for.”

“You’ve sacrificed a lot to be here today.” Javert told him, admiration filling his normally gruff voice, “You’ve come so far.”

“And it’ll all been inutile because I failed them both. I can’t afford Enjolras’ university, I can’t afford Cosette’s flat, the taxi firm is about to go under and I don’t know what to do.”

“But you’ve been there for them both, you’ve always made your love known, you’re so proud of both of them, anyone can see it.” Javert spoke sincerely, making eye contact with Valjean the whole time, “Your children are good people, I know for a fact the younger ones idolise both of them, they make this area a nice place to live in, they make the atmosphere, they also have dreams to get out, to explore the world and that’s thanks to you.”

“I just feel like I’ve failed as a parent, their mother would never have trusted me with them if she’d have known this would be their future.” Valjean closed his eyes. “I’ve failed her too.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” Javert snorted, “Fantine would have wanted them to be as they are, she’d understand what you’re going through, she went through a similar thing remember, when they just moved here and she used to joke the boatman took a wrong turn to America. She left them to you for a reason. Not Abeula, not me, you. Because she knew you’d look after them and raise them to be the wonderful people they are today.”

“I just wish I could do more.” Valjean told him, meeting his gaze. 

“You’re doing the best you can.” Javert sipped his coffee, “You know, I think Abeula has something with her paciencia ye fe, it’ll work out in the end.”

Valjean picked up his cooling coffee and looked at Javert over the rim, “I hope you’re right.”

 

-

“Remember my corner?” Grantaire asked, as they stood on that very corner, outside Musichetta’s salon and Marius’ shop, the sun beat down on them, watching.

“Your fire hydrant!” Enjolras laughed, it felt easy and natural, light compared to the guilt, the stress, the homesickness he’d been carrying around as of late, “Every summer you’d open it and everyone would come out and dance and get soaked.” 

“To cool down, until we heard Javert’s siren and the everyone would run and I’d run to the back of the taxi dispatch, knock on the window and your dad would let me in after lecturing me.” Grantaire pointed at the garage a few steps away, “He was always grumpy-”

“Because you were always in trouble.” Enjolras added, shooting him a look. 

“But then you were there and we used to play in the parked taxis until your dad kicked me out.” Grantaire grinned. 

“Then when you’d gone, dad used to complain about you getting the upholstery all wet and tell me that you were not a role model to follow.” Enjolras told him, “But I never listened, you’re more fun than he is.”

“I’m glad you didn’t listen to him.” Grantaire smiled, eyes locked on Enjolras’. Enjolras could see Musichetta’s curls moving as she spied on them out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire waved at her and she shrieked and moved away from the window. They laughed. 

“We’ll be in all her gossip now.” Enjolras told him. 

“She’ll talk anyway, it’s what she does.” Grantaire chuckled. 

“Where else did we hang out?” Enjolras asked, they started walking along the street to the park at the end. Hands bumping occasionally as they walked along, skin burning with every bit of contact. 

“Your fire escape. You’d tell me all you’d learnt and I’d watch your thoughts taking shape and wonder how you were so much smarter than me, being three years younger.” Grantaire told him. “And we’d argue about how to change the world into the morning.”

“I used to take Cosette up there and we’d talk about gossip at school, who we had crushes on, who was dating who.” Enjolras told him, “And in winter, the hot chocolate we drank there, snuggled in all the blankets.”

“With the pain au chocolate!” Grantaire grinned.

“And we’d sit out in summer and just talk.” Enjolras reminisced, “And bring the others sometimes too.”

“I always preferred it just you and me.” Grantaire told him, hoping he wasn’t blushing, “It was easier for two to fit in then five.” 

“Life was easier then.” Enjolras sighed dreamily.

“Enjolras, everything is easier when you’re home.” Grantaire told him, “The streets a little kinder, the day a little clearer, the sun a little brighter now that you’re here or is that just me? Maybe it’s just me. Probably. But I think you make this place nicer, tell me you feel it too?”

Enjolras got the sense Grantaire wasn’t just talking about it on a shallow level as he met glanced at him and prayed he wouldn’t blush, “I think I know what you mean.”

“Hey, you remember this park?” Grantaire asked as they slipped inside, the conversation flitting easily, “Abeula and the others would bring radios and picnics sometimes and everyone used to sit out and just have a great time.”

“And when I walked home from late night studies and I’d see you laughing and rapping and messing about with Bahorel and the others.” Enjolras nodded. “Or you’d do parkour on all the fountains and benches.”

“I used to try to talk to you, but you’d just walk on by.” Grantaire told him ruefully, grabbing Enjolras’ hand to lead him off the path and into the trees. Enjolras’ chest jolted and his skin burnt. “Head in the clouds.”

“I always pretended to ignore you, I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends, but the times you walked me home were nice, when I told you about what I’d learnt and you just listened or debated with me.” Enjolras told him.

“And all those times I drove you home from studies once I got a job at the firm, all the cross-city lectures you went to.” Grantaire smiled, thinking of the times Enjolras seemed to be a permanent fixture to his passenger seat, “And those late-night talks and rallies you made me sneak you to.” 

“And I’m immensely grateful for it.” Enjolras told him, “I always felt bad though, I wasn’t exactly cool, I’m still the neighbourhood nerd, the barrio boffin. You could have done so many things with your friends, but you always helped me.”

“You were so cool. Are you crazy? Everyone was in awe of you, Bossuet still goes on about you and Bahorel. You’re so smart and quick and dedicated, I always thought it was an honour that you’d even grace me with your time when you could have been studying or learning.” Grantaire beamed, holding a branch up for Enjolras to duck under, “Everyone feels the same, that’s why we had the street party to cheer you on when you left.” 

“Don’t say that.” Enjolras snapped, the words felt like a stab wound through his heart.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just don’t.” Enjolras told him, “Don’t tell me you’re proud of me because I’ve lost who I am.”

Grantaire stopped, letting go of Enjolras’ hand. Here the trees made a kind of den, shielding them from the rest of the world, a makeshift swing hung from the branches, big enough and strong enough for two people. 

“I remember here.” Enjolras breathed.

“I never showed anyone this?” Grantaire said but it sounded like a question, “I used to sit and sketch here or play my guitar and just relax. I made the swing because the ground was uncomfortable.”

And yes, Enjolras remembered, after his late night class, he’d been walking through the park, heard the melancholiest music he’d ever heard, beautifully morose guitar that had backed an equally forlorn voice. He’d had to find out who it belonged to and he hadn’t been surprised to see Grantaire curled around a guitar singing the saddest song about forbidden love. His eyes had been impossibly soft and vulnerable and now looking into the same eyes in the same space, Enjolras could see the change in him more than ever before. 

“Maybe I haven’t.” Enjolras brushed it off, looking at the ground. The uneven flooring, the roots and plants, anything to keep that time a secret.

“Come swing with me, Enjolras.” Grantaire called, settling on the swing, patting the place next to him and yes, Enjolras just wanted to stay in this alcove with Grantaire until his problems went away or the world ended.

“Will it hold us both?”

“I’ll push you.” Grantaire shook his head and so Enjolras sat, Grantaire moving the swing forwards and backwards. It was comfortable and nice and Enjolras felt more at peace than he had done in months. Until Grantaire asked, voice quiet and soft. “Why can’t I be proud of you?”

 

“I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore,” Enjolras confessed, voice quiet. “I’ve tried to find the answer by working harder, studying more, learning English and Spanish, trying to make my Dad proud. I know he worries he can’t give me and ‘Sette the best so I tried to do the best to make him proud, to make him see he was doing brilliantly, because he is, he’s doing the best he can. But I think in trying to do that I got lost in the work.

“And, I thought maybe university would help me, maybe being away from here meant I could find who I was, but it didn’t, I’d stand at the Seine and stare out thinking who am I, why am I here, what is my purpose, I just. When I was younger I used to wonder what if my mum hadn’t moved here, what if she hadn’t died and left me and my sister, what if I’d have grown up in the Solomon Islands? With my people? Would I have been different? Would I know who I’m supposed to be?

“But I can’t find the answer here or out there in Paris, I spent the year wanting to come home and working, always working, I didn’t read my book because when I wasn’t working I wanted to sleep. I skipped a lot of lectures trying to read the books and then I lost my scholarship and that seemed like fate telling me what to do. So I dropped out because Dad can’t afford it and I need to work out what to do here, I know I’m letting everyone down, I know they think I can change the world, I know they use me to inspire the kids but I can’t do it, I’m lost and I can’t handle people saying they’re proud when I’m not proud of myself, when I don’t believe in myself. I can’t take it anymore.”

They swung in silence for a few seconds, Enjolras staring up at the sky through the trees, relief and freeness running through his veins now he’d told someone how he felt, he felt lighter, more at ease. The stress he’d been carrying around now out in the open. Grantaire slowed the swing.

“You know,” Grantaire started voice quiet and wary, Enjolras turned, back against one of the ropes so he could he look up as Grantaire spoke, “I don’t believe in anything, but if there’s one thing I do believe than it’s you, I believe in you Enjolras. When you find your way again – because you will, I know it, life doesn’t keep the Gods down long - you’re going to change the world, you’re going to do something amazing and make a difference and all of us here are going to brag because we knew you, because this is your home.

“And you might not know who you’re supposed to be or what your purpose is, but that’s okay, I don’t think many people do. I, for one, am winging life like Éponine wings her eyeliner. But you do have some kind of clarification, you know you want to save the world, you just have to pick a starting point, pick a direction and everything will fall into place. But remember no matter how far away you get if you need to find your roots again, you can always come back home. Here, in this neighbourhood with all these crazy people and blurred languages is home.” 

“It is, isn’t it.” Enjolras nodded, his heart swelling with Grantaire’s words. He remembered they used to huddle together on his fire escape, debating until the sunrise about ways to change the world. He knew Grantaire believed nothing would change but still he sat with him, helped him build up arguments and ideals, helped him grow and learn. He remembered Grantaire was always doing that, always helping him and he felt a sudden rush of appreciation for the man before him. And Marius may have been his closest friend but Grantaire was closer than Enjolras thought, a lot closer.

“Welcome home.” Grantaire smiled, so honest and open and bright that Enjolras wanted to cry. 

“I’m home.” Enjolras nodded, moving to hug Grantaire, the brunet hugged him back tightly smiling as he held him close and Enjolras whispered his words over and over: “I’m home, thank you, thank you so much R. I’m home.” 

 

-

 

“So what made you want a haircut Enjolras?” Musichetta asked, from behind him, meeting his eyes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow, smiling in a way that made Enjolras think she thought she knew more than she did. She sprayed his hair with water and combed it straight, snipping the ends with her scissors quickly. Her years of experience paying off.

“I’ve had it cut once in the past year.” Enjolras replied, purposely not giving her the answer she wanted. As a result of not getting his hair cut, it just touched his shoulders and he thought he looked a lot like his sister from behind – that and he was desperate for an excuse to leave the house that morning with his father still not speaking to him. Hence the rush to the hair salon. 

Éponine was dealing with another customer next to him and next to her was his twin, chatting away about who was doing who and why. Jehan was giving a pedicure to someone in the massage room, the door closed so he was not to be disturbed. The purple uniforms the same as they had been, only their hair and makeup changing routinely. He smiled softly at the joy of being back with his friends.

“Sure, sure.” She hummed, snipping away at his hair, so it fell just past his ears. 

“You may as well just cut to the point, tell me what you want me to know.” He relented, she’d only push and push until he gave her something, her determination was one of the things that made her who she was. A trait he usually admired.

“So you’ve been spending a lot of time with Grantaire...” Musichetta met his eyes in the mirror, grinning, looking as wild as her mass of hair. 

Don’t blush, Enjolras. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Merde.

“So I have.” Enjolras answered, ignoring the pink stain on his cheeks, Musichetta smirked seeing it.

“Come on, give us more than that.” Éponine needled, applying colour to her client’s hair, “You’ve been gone a year.” 

“I helped him on the dispatch yesterday morning which was nice actually, to go back to what I used to. Then I ran into him in the afternoon when he’d finished work and we got talking and reminiscing about when we were little, we went to the park and just chatted.” He relented with an eyeroll, purposely not mentioning how his blood rushed at the sound of Grantaire’s name, how he had dreamed of the brunet last night or how he hoped to see him again soon. “I invited him to dinner later.” 

“You didn’t tell me this.” Cosette frowned at him from two chairs over, hair swishing in its ponytail as she moved around. 

“I didn’t think I needed to.” He snorted in reply.

“Obviously, I need updates on your love life – what kind of twin do you think I am?” 

“We’re just friends.” Enjolras protested. “So I don’t have a love life to update you on.”

“Ay bendito.” Éponine and Cosette said at the same time, making eye contact and laughing at the face Enjolras pulled. He could see Cosette hadn’t made a move on either Éponine or Marius whilst he’d been gone, so much for that speech he’d given her about going for it. 

“Enjolras, cariño, the way that boy looks at you is not like a friend, I saw it yesterday with my own eyes as you stood at the fire hydrant. He was practically undressing you with his eyes and you were doing the same.” Musichetta told him, then added to the others, “I was scared they were going to jump each other there and then. It’s always been like that with you two.” 

“No me diga.” Éponine teased, winking at Enjolras who rolled his eyes.

“It has not, we’re friends, honestly.” Enjolras replied.

“Hey, wanna know what I heard?” Musichetta asked him, making it her mission to make him squirm, he took a deep breath in, his hair falling to the floor. 

“If it’s about Grantaire, I don’t care but you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You know me well,” She laughed, moving to the other side, “A little birdie told me, he’s got quite a big,” Here she trailed off, and winked at him, “Taxi.”

“You’re scandalous.” Cosette laughed, catching the innuendo immediately. 

“I don’t want to know where you heard that.” Enjolras scrunched up his nose, unable to hide the redness of his cheeks at the imagery that brought to his mind.

“I don’t think I get it…” Éponine’s client trailed off, frowning.

“Cari, he’s packing a stretch limousine.” Musichetta laughed, thrusting her hands forward near her hips with a wink, rolling her hips and making obscene noises. 

“Well, if he keeps it clean.” Cari answered sweetly, misunderstanding. Enjolras snorted, face enflamed with blood as Éponine’s laughter turned silent, crying as she crouched on the floor and Cosette wheezed in the corner, head against the wall.

“Ay dios mio.” Musichetta laughed, cutting through Enjolras’ hair quickly, tidying the ends as the others calmed down.

“But seriously though Enjolras, we knew it’d be you who got out of the barrio.” Éponine said, getting back up, wiping the tears from her face, surprisingly her makeup hadn’t run at all. “I bet you kicked ass at university, slaying all the Parisians with your knowledge.”

“We want front row seats to your graduation.” Musichetta told him, taking the cape off him, shaking the hair onto the floor. She’d sweep it up after he’d gone.

“So we can cheer you on when they call your name.” Cosette grinned, clutching her ribs and walking back to her station. She didn’t know, too quick to get out of the house to flirt with Marius before work.

“It’ll be so fun! We can go partying after too.” Musichetta cheered. 

“We can get our hair and nails done.” Cosette added. 

“Make it a special do.” Éponine nodded.

“I-I dropped out.” Enjolras confessed, standing up, staring at the cans of hairspray on the shelf in front of the mirror, avoiding their eyes and their reactions. 

“No me diga!” they all shouted, various stages of shock and disappointment colouring their faces.

“But you didn’t say anything yesterday…” Cosette spoke, hurt etched onto her face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I, I have to go.” He mumbled, thrusting the money to Musichetta and running out of the salon. 

“Well that’s a shitty piece of news.” Musichetta sighed, walking over to the till.

“What the hell happened?” Éponine asked, eyes wide as she stared as the door slammed shut. They were all looking at Musichetta “He never quits anything, never gives up.”

Musichetta’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped, “I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” 

 

-

 

“Paciencia y fe, he’s just timide.” Abeula told Cosette and Éponine, raising her face to the sun and closing her eyes, not noticing her slip into French. They were sat in Valjean’s garden – which was basically a small patio and a patch of grass - for Enjolras’ welcome home meal. 

Musichetta and her boyfriends were lounging on a picnic blanket, chatting and laughing together, basking in the sun. Marius and Courfeyrac were discussing something near the door into the house, Jehan was trying to drag Courfeyrac away from Marius and to where he, Feuilly and Bahorel had been dancing, the radio singing away softly in the background. Enjolras emerged from the house, face pink, Grantaire following. Valjean was by the barbeque cooking the food, Javert hovering at his side. 

Musichetta sat up, visibly excited at the prospect of seeing Enjolras and Grantaire together, Cosette waved to them as they were pulled into the dancing group. Her eyes glued to them. 

“I wish he’d make some kind of move on you ‘Sette.” Éponine grumbled, sipping her beer. “Then I could move on.” 

“It’s not like that, ‘Ponine.” Cosette protested, failing to understand how Éponine couldn’t see the way Marius looked at her, the way he blushed when he saw her, the affection in his eyes and the adorable way he stuttered and babbled when Éponine was around. Similar to the way he did around herself. 

“It is, but that’s okay.” She shrugged, “I’m happy for you.” 

“No-”

“Cosette leave it, it’s fine.” Éponine tone harshened, her eyes narrowing and eyebrows dragging down. There were a few times Cosette had seen Éponine angry, not her usual frustration but pure unadulterated fury, it had been terrifying and this was borderline. 

“Fine.” Cosette sighed, knowing when to drop something. Also knowing Éponine deserved better after all she’d been through. 

“Chicas, paciencia y fe, I promise.” Abeula spoke again, “Trust me, it’ll work out in the end.”

“Ojalá.” Cosette sighed, pushing the straw of her lemonade around the glass, glancing at Marius one last time to find him chatting away to Grantaire. Courfeyrac now dancing with Jehan and Azelma. 

Éponine raised her beer in mock-toast and echoed her, “Ojalá.”

 

-

“Bonjour?” Valjean spoke on the phone, getting up and going inside to take the call, in private. 

Enjolras watched him go but thought nothing of it as he turned back to the conversation going on around him. Abeula and Javert were sat talking over the picnic table, Valjean had been with them, the rest of them were sprawled across the grass in a circular shape. 

“Hey, me and Cosette are going dancing later if any of you want to join us.” Marius told them. Cosette glanced at him, but turned to them with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, clearly gutted not to get one on one time. 

“The more the merrier.” She told them, voice flat without her usual chirp.

“No, you can’t go, either of you.” Éponine cut off Azelma, where she’d been about to speak, she snapped her mouth shut and frowned at her sister but Éponine rolled her eyes. Gavroche pulled a face at her. 

“Oooh, let’s go dancing.” Musichetta turned to each of her boyfriends, they were cuddled to her sides, despite the warmth the three of them didn’t seem to mind. 

“I’ve always wanted to try a three-person tango.” Bossuet wiggled his eyebrows with a grin. 

“You can’t you’re hurt.” Joly told him, caution creeping into his voice. He stood out on their block, being from completely French descent and Enjolras supposed he lived in the city, though he seemed very accepting of all he saw in their barrio and Enjolras found himself liking Joly, his puns and his love so painfully obvious for both Bossuet and Musichetta. 

“Which is exactly why you need to go, Joly.” Bossuet told him. “We can’t let ‘Chetta go dancing alone, what if she finds a fourth person to add to our group or someone steals her from us.”

“He’s right.” Musichetta bumped her hip against Joly’s, biting her bottom lip hopefully whilst Bossuet pouted at him, blinking in his best imitation of a puppy dog. 

“Fine, it might be fun.” Joly relented, a small smile on his face.

“We won’t be out late, ‘Suet.” Musichetta told him, “Just an hour or two.” 

“I would but the babies won’t get in.” Bahorel told them, gesturing to Feuilly. 

“I’m going.” Cosette pointed out, her and Enjolras only being a few months older than Feuilly. They’d been friends at school since Feuilly moved to the neighbourhood and though Enjolras hadn’t seen him much lately, he was happy to see him again, happy to see he was happy.

“If I’m a baby, you’re a sugar daddy.” Feuilly shot back at Bahorel from his conversation with Jehan. 

“Yeah, but you go a lot.” Bahorel explained, “They know you and you pass for older with your fake I.D. Also, don’t kink shame me, son.” 

“What I.D?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Completely legit I.D, only they made an error on my birthday.” Cosette answered quietly, aware of Javert not far away, raising her hands as if to say ‘what can you do about it’. “It was too expensive to send it back so I kept it.”

“Is no one else completely scarred by what we learnt about Feu’ and ‘Rel’s sex life?” Grantaire asked no one in particular.

“I could so get into the club.” Feuilly frowned at Bahorel, eyes narrowed in determination. 

“You’re on.” Bahorel smirked. 

“Fine.” 

“Good.” 

“We’re going dancing with you.” Feuilly told Marius, resolve in his eyes, his jaw set and fists clenched as he glared at Bahorel and Bahorel glared back. 

“I don’t understand their relationship.” Éponine shook her head at them, a few strands of her hair falling from her plait, curling around her face as she smiled bemusedly at Bahorel and Feuilly. 

“Are you coming, ‘Ponine?” Cosette asked, her hope and excitement obvious, she reminded them all of a restless puppy. 

“Nah sorry, I’ve got the to look after the brats.” Éponine shrugged, “Maybe another time.”

“I’m sixteen, I can look after Gav’.” Azelma told her.

“It’s fine, ‘Zel. I’ve got some stuff to practise for work anyway.” She told her sister, widening her eyes, the hidden meaning behind her words clicking in Azelma’s mind.

“Take it back, I’d be a wreck.” Azelma nodded. 

“Okay, what about you R?” Cosette turned to him, trying to hide her disappointment. 

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, who had re-joined his conversation with Musichetta. His eyes softening as he did so, Cosette smiled at him, she’d always suspected Grantaire and her brother would end up together – she’d eavesdropped when they’d been huddled up on the fire escape more than once and caught Enjolras sneaking out at night when they’d been in school and she hoped that would come true.

“I don’t think so; I might just go for a walk or something.” He answered, forcing his eyes back to Cosette, she nodded. Crossing her fingers furtively. 

“Sounds fun.” She scrunched up her nose and he just rolled his eyes at her. She grinned back. 

 

-

 

“So anyway, why’d you drop out?” Musichetta asked Enjolras, her floppy hat casting a shadow over her face, her hair frizzing out underneath it, partially tamed. She’d moved from her boyfriend sandwich, now sitting with Enjolras as Joly and Bossuet chatted with Grantaire and Marius a little way away. Cosette was being given a piggy back ride by Bahorel, Éponine racing him with Gavroche on her back and Azelma commentated it with Feuilly and Coufeyrac. 

“I had two jobs and no time for uni work so I lost my scholarship and I know we can’t afford it, plus it’s hard and the people are so different, so narrow-minded.” Enjolras shrugged, “It’s not what I thought it would be.” 

“But you never quit anything.” Musichetta tipped her head to the side, something like a frown on her face, she might not understand but there was no disappointment there and he felt relief at that. 

“Well, now I do.” Enjolras shrugged. 

“It’s your choice.” She relented. “If you need a job, I can find you one, ask my clients.” 

“Thank you ‘Chetta.” He smiled, hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, feeling like an older sister, with her and Bossuet being twenty-six they’d seen the others grow up and acted every bit like over-protective siblings, getting them out of trouble and looking after them until they could look after themselves. 

“Or you could work at the garage.” Bossuet offered, turning to include the pair into their group. 

“Nah man, Enjolras would take over me on the dispatch.” Grantaire said, grinning lazily at Enjolras from where he was sprawled out on the grass, leaning on his elbows, “He killed it yesterday.” 

“I think the fact that you rapped it all didn’t exactly help.” Enjolras teased, with a grin that seemed to respond purely to Grantaire – yes, he was aware it was a problem, no, he didn’t care. He could feel Bossuet and Musichetta’s eyes flicking between them, feel them grinning at the exchange whilst Joly sat trying to work it all out.

“I was trying to keep the attention.” Grantaire rolled his eyes, but his dimples made an appearance and Enjolras felt his heart palpitate, maybe he needed Joly to check it.

“You were showing off.” Enjolras shot him a look, to which Grantaire faked outrage, eyes widening, mouthing dropping. It made him laugh. 

“I was so no-” 

“Atención, atención.” Valjean announced walking back out into the garden, his phone in his hand.

“Are you making a speech Papa?” Cosette asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More of an announcement,” Valjean nodded, his mouth a flat line, eyes with no smiles in them. “I sold the taxi firm so Enjolras, you can go back to university, you can change the world.” 

“You did what?” Enjolras exclaimed, the words slipping past him as he blinked at the man he called father. 

“I sold the taxi firm, we can afford for you to go to university.” Valjean told him, “I’d had some offers and I decided to take one.”

“Did we just lose our jobs?” Grantaire asked, anger and hurt and sadness replacing the mischievous joy that had been there before. It boiled Enjolras’ blood.

“You can’t do that Papa.” Cosette told him, tone firm and eyes fierce. 

“Your drivers are half of my business.” Marius exclaimed. “I’m struggling as it is, if they go, what will I do?”

“My family comes first. That’s business, I’m not responsible for you after, I’m not welfare.” Valjean held up his hands. “I’m sorry, but all that’s all I can do.” 

“You said we were part of your family.” Bahorel spoke up, he was clearly hurt from the sad drop of his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped and his bottom lip stuck out slightly.

“I can take night classes, get a job here, you don’t have to sell the business.” Enjolras told him, standing up to look his father in the face. His fists clenched involuntarily, how could his father be so narrow-minded and stubborn?

“And let you stay stuck in this barrio?” Valjean asked, “Let you waste your potential like everyone else in this neighbourhood? You won’t get out of you do that, Enjolras, you’ll get a job at the shop or the salon and that’ll be it. Your lot.”

“And what’s wrong with my salon?” Musichetta asked.

“I want better than gossiping and cutting hair for my children. I will not let the waste their time like you and Jehan.” Valjean spoke.

“Well, excuse you.” Musichetta spat, eyes livid, getting up gracefully, Bossuet and Joly following as she rushed out of the yard, making apologies as they went. 

“I don’t want to go back there.” Enjolras shouted. “I hated it, I spent every minute wishing I’d never gone! It was a waste of time and money. You can’t make me go back.” 

“I have to.” Valjean yelled back.

“No, you don’t.” Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, “We need to talk about this as a family. I can’t let you make a ton of people redundant for me – I’m not worth that. I got a plan, I’m not going to do nothing with my ‘potential’ or whatever you think I have. And, I can’t believe you insulted everyone like that, there are so many talented people living here and we’re lucky to know them”

“Enjolras, no, you will go back to university and do better than I did for myself.” Valjean’s eyes blazed with anger. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Jean, stop, calm down.” Javert got up, holding a hand out to Valjean, “You don’t have to do this.” 

“I do, family comes first.” Valjean told him, “In a few years you’ll thank me Enjolras, I know you will.” 

“What for making me miserable?” Enjolras laughed, bitter and cold. “For forcing me to a place I don’t want to be, a place I could never fit in? I hated every minute I spent there. I dropped out five months ago; I don’t even know if they’ll let me back.”

“You lied to me? To everyone? For five months?”

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t want everyone to be disappointed, but I couldn’t hack it, I couldn’t take the pressure, couldn’t do the work, okay, I’m not good enough for it. It’s not for me and I refuse to go back.”

“How can you be so ungrateful for the sacrifice I just made for you?” Valjean made as if to move towards Enjolras, rage in his eyes like none before, Javert blocked his path.

“We’re fired?” Grantaire ran a hand through his hair, face a worried, angry riot and Enjolras just wanted to take it in his hands, to smooth out the creases, to reassure him it would work out. 

“No, R, I’ll fix this, I promise I will.” Enjolras turned to him, touching his arm for comfort, voice softening, anger dissipating.

“Stay away from him, Enjolras.” Valjean’s expression darkened evermore and God, Enjolras was sick of it, was sick of his father disapproving Grantaire, of him seeing the worse in Grantaire, sick of his father calling the brunet a troublemaker without a cause, a nuisance. Because to Enjolras, Grantaire was anything but, he was wonderful and talented and amazing and it wasn’t fair.

“No! Grantaire is my friend. I’m sick of you not approving of him, he’s good and brilliant, he’s talented and funny and amazing if only you’d give him a chance. R has been here for me more than you have since I’ve been back. He’s been the support I needed.” Enjolras growled, “And in return, I will not leave my friends when they need me, I’ll support them as they have supported me, it’s how family works.”

“No Enjolras, it’s fine, forget it, I’ll only stop you from achieving what you could.” Grantaire told him, voice cold and distant, pulling his arm out of Enjolras’ grip, “I’ll stay away from your son, don’t worry Valjean. I won’t hurt his chances of doing something with his life anymore.”

“R!” Enjolras shouted as the brunet stormed out of the garden.

“I’ll deal with it.” Éponine sighed, getting up to follow, “Gav’, ‘Zelma, come on.” 

“I’m coming too.” Bahorel growled, Feuilly and Jehan following him, the six of them left. 

“Abeula, we should go,” Marius smiled at her softly, Courfeyrac by his side as they helped her up, “I’ll meet you later Cosette?”

“No, I’m done listening to him ruin my family.” She shook her head, at Valjean, eyes hurt and angry, jaw set, she got up, “I’ll come with you if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Marius spluttered. They left leaving Valjean, Javert and Enjolras in an awkward silence. 

“I’m not touching that money.” Enjolras told his father, crossing his arms.

“You’re going back to university; I don’t care if you go willingly or not.” Valjean seethed.

“You can’t make me, it’s my life. I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me and Cosette but honestly this is the biggest mistake you’ll ever make. I won’t accept what you’ve done.” Enjolras stormed out of the garden.

“Where are you going?” Valjean roared after him.

Enjolras just shouted back, “To help my family!” 

 

-

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in the club here before?” Marius shouted over the loud music, eyes moving around the darkened room. 

To one side was the bar, people ordering drinks and chatting mingled there, around the edges were little groups having conversations, there were a few tables and chairs, but other than that the rest of the space was taken up by a dancefloor, full of people doing different dances, laughing and singing to the words in the music. 

“Really?” Cosette asked, already moving to the rhythm of the music, fluffing up her hair, smiling. This was her home, Marius realised, she looked like she belonged there, blonde hair shining under the multi-coloured lights. 

“I like the lights; the music is good too, I like this song. You’re right, this is fun, it feels fun.” Marius told her, she smiled back at him, red lipstick matching her dress, flowing around her like a flower, “Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight? Because you d-”

“Relax Marius.” She told him, a little laughter in her voice. He smiled, glad she had calmed down, glad the usual Cosette was resurfacing.

“I’m relaxed.” 

“Wepa Cosette!” A couple called, she waved over, grinning at them.

“You come here a lot? I don’t go out much I guess I’m busy with the store, we should hang out more, I never see you outside of your coffee buying and I’d like to. I know I’m a dork and you’re amazing and funny and beautiful and I’m awkward but I-”

“Why don’t we get a drink?” Cosette cut him off, touching his arm to get his attention.

“Something sweet?”

“With a little bit of cinnamon.” She bit her bottom lip, grinning at him.

“I’ll be back.” He promised and she nodded.

“I’ll be over there.” She laughed, pointing to some of her friends, dancing over like she was made to do that, he watched her, then remembered where he was and rushed to the bar. 

“Can I have something sweet, with cinnamon – two of them please.” Marius asked the barmaid, she nodded, turning to work on their drinks. 

“Marius!” Grantaire called, several shots in front of him, though it was clear he’d already had some from the empty stack he’d made in the shape of a pyramid. Ever the artist. 

“You came?” 

“I needed a drink, thought I might go dancing after, drown my sorrows in tequila.” Grantaire told him, bitterness climbing into his voice, hijacking his normally cheerful inclinations, “Bahorel and Feuilly are on the dancefloor, he got in. Take a shot.”

“What are we toasting?”

“Getting fired!” Grantaire shouted, downing it.

“To killing the mood.” Marius told him, but drank anyway.

“Salud.” Grantaire jeered. “I worked there for five years without so much as a thank you, nothing but distain and disapproval. Have another, to getting Cosette!”

“L’chaim!” Marius cheered, downing the shot handed to him. 

“I can’t believe you actually did it!” Grantaire yelled over the music.

“Courfeyrac did.” Marius confessed. 

“Awh man, that’s lame, she still said yes though.” Grantaire left, “What’re you going to do about Éponine?” 

“Nothing?” Marius shrugged. 

“Damn shame.” Grantaire downed another shot, handing one to Marius. 

“Hey, you get them drinks?” Cosette breathed, leaning on Marius, her hair tickling his skin, perfume washing over him, he felt his face heat. 

“There’ll be a minute.” The barmaid shouted back to her.

“Gracias!” Cosette called, jigging to the beat like she could help it if she tried. She had a certain energy here that Marius had never seen before, a comfort or ease in the dim lights and pounding bass.

“Hey you.” A guy spoke, sidling up to Cosette.

“Who?” She asked. 

“You.” 

“Who me?”

“You wanna dance?”

“Nah man.” Cosette shook her head, touching Marius’ arm again to indicate she was taken. The guy nodded, though he looked disappointed. 

“Okay, okay, I took my chance.” The guy held up his hands, turning to go. 

“It’s cool if you want to,” Marius told her, shrugging in a blasé manner. 

“You don’t mind?” She frowned, her bottom lip moving down into a pout. 

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Fine.” She answered flatly, turning to hide her unhappiness from him, the way her jaw tightened, hands clenching into fists, “Let’s go, Babet.”

“Who was that?” Grantaire nodded at Cosette and Babet’s retreating figures.

“Some guy.” Marius shrugged, “I think she called him Babet?”

“That’s messed up.” Grantaire snorted, downing another shot, Marius frowned but didn’t make a move to stop him, it’s not like he’d stop if Marius asked him to anyway.

“What?”

“Come on, Marius, it’s the oldest trick in the book.” Grantaire groaned, looking at him like he was particularly stupid. Marius blushed with embarrassment. 

“What book?”

“Who cares what book?” Grantaire raised his hands in exclamation, taking another shot, “She’s trying to make you jealous! That was a test and you failed my friend.” 

“Jealous?” Marius turned, seeing the way Cosette and Babet were dancing, close together, moving back and forth, hips together, practically grinding against one another, he frowned, feeling a stab of sickness, “I’m not jealous. I could take these guys, whatever.”

“Sure.” Grantaire called to Marius’ back as he slipped into the crowd, downing another shot. The alcohol buzzing in time to the music, dulling his sense a little, the hurt and rejection, the embarrassment.

“Grantaire, can we talk outside please?” The voice spoke in his ear, familiar and mellow instead of distorted with rage as it had been earlier, loud in his ear, shouting to be heard over the music. He hated the way his heart seized up, the way his hands got clammy – just a reminder of all he could never have. 

“And there he is!” Grantaire cheered, the alcohol and hurt in his system making him cruel. He saw how Enjolras flinched, a look of pain flashing across his face before it disappeared into stoic austere blankness. God, Grantaire loved that face. 

“I didn’t know; I’m going to fix it, I promise.” Enjolras told him, determination sparked in his eyes, familiar and still burning as brightly. Grantaire’s heart leapt.

“How did you get in? You know what whatever. You cost me my job today.” Grantaire snapped, “Five long years and that was all I got.”

“I’m going to make it right.” Enjolras assured him, voice steady. 

“I don’t doubt you’ll try, but you forget your dad is as stubborn as you are, so here, a toast to the end of all I know, to my future and my plans and my job!” Grantaire raised another shot to his lips and drank, keeping eye contact with Enjolras, watching as the blond followed his movements, the way his Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed the alcohol. 

“Put the shot glass down, Grantaire.” Enjolras told him, eyeing the ever-growing pile by the brunet’s elbow. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“Says you, the boy who has it all.” 

“You can’t say that to me.” 

“Why don’t you go back to your dad? He loves reminding me how I’m never going to be good enough for your family, for you, for anything. Worthless, that’s all I am, of course I was drawn to the leader, the scholar, the future saviour of the world, the believer. But apparently not even that now. Just another deadbeat in this decaying neighbourhood. Tragic.”

“I thought you were different.” Enjolras whispered, but Grantaire heard, “I thought you were good enough for me. I wanted you to be.”

“Your daddy is right, I’m not. “Grantaire picked up another shot, smirking callously, “Salud.” 

“Fuck you.” Enjolras snarled, turning into the crowd and disappearing in a whirl of blonde hair. 

 

-

“Bartender, can I get an amaretto sour for this flower?” Marius asked, hand on the back of Irma, the girl he’d been working up the courage to talk to for the past half hour as Cosette moved from guy to guy, dancing like sin. “How are you so pretty? You complete me, I need you truly, madly deeply. Please say something.” 

“No hablo inglés.” Irma replied, confusion dancing in her eyes, but she was smiling. He hoped that was a good sign. With her paler skin and black curls, she didn’t look like Cosette, sharper and more like Éponine, he realised. Only their dresses were similar, both a blood red. 

Marius grinned, switching languages easily, “Quieres bailar?” 

“Sí!” She yelled, grabbing his hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. 

He moved them over to where Cosette was dancing with two guys, laughing as she copied Musichetta a few people next to her, the brunette grinning and laughing with her. Then one twirled away and Cosette slipped easily into a tango with the other guy.

Marius let Irma put them in positon, though he took lead, dipper her down low, twirling and moving them as she laughed and sang to the music. Marius could see Cosette looking at them, see her set jaw, the way she turned and pulled another guy to dance with her. But he was too caught up in Irma, with her hair and her moves and her giggling. 

He saw Grantaire dancing with another girl somewhere, Bahorel and Feuilly off talking in a corner and Enjolras glaring at Grantaire with an intensity like no other. Irma pulled him closer, pulled his attention back to her as she twirled out again, laughing as she did so. 

And, then another guy pulled her into his arms before she twirled in, and she was tangoing with him and Marius was alone, turning he saw Cosette stood behind him and she held out her hand. He took it, pulling her to him, dancing like he had done with Irma.

Accept, it was different.

All the moves with Cosette he meant, all of the touches made his skin spark, the way she wrapped her leg around his waist as he dipped her, the brush of her hair as he twirled her, the lack of space between them as they breathed the same air, dancing together, back and forth. All the jealousy and game playing had been worth it, he realised as they danced like they were one person. They danced like they were in love. 

 

-

 

“You wanna dance?” A deep voice spoke behind Enjolras, from where he’d been glaring at the dancefloor, more specifically where Grantaire was dancing with some girl. He’d seen his sister being passed from guy to guy, Marius dancing with a Spanish girl near her. But now they were dancing, so he figured whatever had gone on was resolved now.

“I’m a guy.” Enjolras replied, immediately, unable to count the times he’d been mistake as a girl on all his fingers and toes purely because apparently twenty was too few digits. 

“I know, I am too.” The guy answered, his eyes sparked with mischief, hair curly on top, shaved at the sides, tall and lean, beautiful in a calculated way nothing like Grantaire other than their tanned skin and dark hair. Enjolras could see himself being distracted for a good few hours.

“I didn’t- some people think I’m a girl.” Enjolras explained.

“Because you’re so beautiful no? I’m Montparnasse.” The brunet answered, taking his hand and kissing it gently, voice thick with a French accent. Enjolras didn’t recognise him so he must have moved to their barrio in the past year. 

“I’m Enjolras.” He told him, oddly charmed. 

“Was that a yes to the dance?”

“It was.” Enjolras smiled.

Montparnasse grinned, leading him to the dancefloor, right in front of Grantaire. Enjolras glanced at him, making eye contact as Grantaire danced with the girl, smirked seeing the anger flare up. Then Montparnasse pulled him in close and they danced, hips together, moving back and forth, Enjolras twirling occasionally, seeing as Grantaire matched them with the girl, throwing her around.

Montparnasse put his arms around Enjolras’ front, so they were chest to back, them moving in sync, then Enjolras was twirled out and in, facing his dance partner as they ground together, getting lower and moving up, he was enjoying every minute of it.

Especially when Grantaire dropped the girl he had been dipping as Enjolras did a particularly dirty move against Montparnasse. Grantaire stormed over, tapping the other brunet on the back, as Enjolras rubbed against the Montparnasse, swinging his hips, purposely teasing Grantaire. 

“I’m busy.” Montparnasse threw over his shoulder, attention on Enjolras as he blond moved lower again. 

Grantaire tapped him again, harder than before, Montparnasse almost stumbled. 

“Fuck off.” Montparnasse growled, as Enjolras rose, smirking at Grantaire from over Montparnasse’s shoulder. 

“No.” Grantaire roared, pulling Montparnasse to face him, which sent Enjolras twirling off in a different direction, Grantaire punched Montparnasse in the nose, cracking it. 

Enjolras screamed at him. Others started trying to break them apart as Montparnasse kicked blindly, blood dripping from his nose. Grantaire punched him again in the side as he was dragged away. Enjolras ran after him, but got lost in the crowd as other people started punching each other, fighting. 

Then the lights went out.

 

-

 

“Oye, qué pasó?”

“Blackout! Blackout!””

“Ay dios!”

“Blackout!”

“Wait!”

“Ayúdeme!”

“Quit shoving!”

“Fuck, I can’t see!”

“You son of a-”

“M’aider!”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Enjolras, where’d you go?”

“C’est trop chaud.”

“Ow!”

“Help me!”

“R?”

“Oye, qué pasó?”

“Chill or we’re gonna get killed!”

“What’s going on?”

“Stop shoving me!”

“I can’t get out!”

“M’aider!”

“Maria!”

“Relax!”

“Somebody better open these goddamn doors!”

“Do you have a light?”

“Relajar!”

“Open them!”

“Claude?”

“I can’t find Marius!”

“R!”

“Has anyone seen Cosette?”

“Joly?”

“Marius help me!”

“I’m here.”

“Irma, dónde estás?

“Where’d you go Enjolras?”

“Aquí!”

“Cosette?”

“Grantaire? Has anyone seen Grantaire?”

“I gotta go.”

“Marius?”

“Enjolras?”

“We’re out!”

“Help me!”

“You left me alone!”

“Where are you R?”

“I can’t find Marius!”

“Help me!”

-

 

“What’s going on? Courfeyrac, where are you going?” Jehan asked following his friend, as they slipped along the mass of people streaming out of the clubs. He’d decided against dancing that night, sensing something might go wrong, he stayed with Courfeyrac, walking around the neighbourhood, sharing stories and poetry, it had been nice until the chaos started.

“I’ve gotta guard the store.” Courfeyrac shouted back, stopping, eyes scanning the crowd, “People’ll start looting it and we can’t lose it.”

“We’ve got to keep moving.” Jehan, placed a hand on his back, to show he was still there, “Why did you stop?”

“I need to find Marius.”

“He’ll be safe. He’ll get to the shop or to Abeula or home.” Jehan told him, hand slipping into Courfeyrac’s, “He’s smart, he’ll be safe.” 

“Okay.” Courfeyrac nodded and started moving again, their hands joined as they moved together past the crowds. 

“I’ve got a tennis racket or two in the back, to chase people off.” Courfeyrac explained as they entered the darkened store, minutes later, slipping through the door easily, after Courfeyrac unlocked it.

“Well, that’s good if they break in but maybe we should try to stop them before. Montparnasse took me with him on his last deal, bought some fireworks, I know where he’s keeping them and then once I get them we can light them, distract anyone who might want to break in.” Jehan suggested. “What do you think?”

“You’re a genius.” Courfeyrac breathed, coming back, tennis rackets in hand, he liked how Jehan treated him like an adult, speaking to him like they were the same age, actually asking his opinion, taking him seriously unlike the others. 

“I don’t really want to leave you alone until then, if you got hurt, I couldn’t live with myself.” Jehan told him. The moonlight illuminating his pale skin and hair. There was a defensive set to his stance, his jaw and his clenched fists and Courfeyrac thought he looked like an avenging God, especially with the flowers braided into his hair, the floral shirt and lime green shorts – one of his tamer outfits. 

“I’ll stay here, close the grate. I promise I won’t start anything until you get back.” Courfeyrac answered, “Unless you want us both to go for the fireworks?”

“Stay here, you’re less likely to get lost.” Jehan decided, moving to the door, he glanced back at Courfeyrac, “I’ll be back.”

“Be safe.” Courfeyrac answered, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“And you.”

 

-

 

“Abeula, are you okay?” Marius asked as he fell through the door to her apartment, the lights were off but he could see her through the door to the fire escape, silhouetted against the darkness by the fireworks someone had let off. The lights shinning in her hair and eyes.

“Marius, las estrellas are out tonight, it’s like back in España, es bonito” She sighed dreamily, eyes glazed over as she reminisced, Marius smiled at her, she’d told him hundreds of stories about her past and he remembered her love for the stars in all of them. 

“I know. You’re not alone tonight.” He told her. “I’m here.”

“I’m never alone, Marius, you’re all in my heart and in the stars.” She replied, eyes on the sky. Below them, people hurried about, shouting to find their family, crowds Marius had been in, not long ago, the night air was warm though less suffocating than the oppressive heat of the club. “You left Cosette?”

“I had to get to you. I had to make sure you’re okay.” Marius looked at where his hands were gripping the firs escape fence, “We fought all night anyway, I don’t think there’s much of a future for us.”

“Es una pena, you’re good for each other. Apologise for what you did and try again. Have you learnt nothing? Paciencia y fe.” She slapped his arm, quite hard for someone of her age. 

“Maybe, maybe not.” Marius answered, “You’re my family and I had to make sure you’re okay.” 

“And what of tu primo? Courfeyrac is he okay?” 

“I tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up.” Marius replied. “He’ll call if there are problems, he’ll be at home, he’ll be safe.”

“He’s a smart kid and so are you. I need to show you something, follow me.” Abeula muttered, moving inside, Marius followed, she picked something up from the table, pushing it into his hands, “Promise me, you’ll guard this bag with your life.”

“Can I look inside?”

“Sí.”

“Abeula, I-I’ve never seen this much money in my life.” Marius stuttered, seeing the all the notes inside the bag, he blinked up at her, she was smiling. “Did you rob a bank?”

“Non! I did it, I won the lottery.” She smiled. 

“Dios mío.” Marius gasped.

“Come, watch the stars with me, celebrate, we deal with it tomorrow.” She held out her hand. “But know everything will work out, paciencia y fe.” 

Marius just nodded, taking it as she went back out to the fire escape, he stood by the table, the bag in his hands, unable to process the night but believing her words, believing her. It would work out. Paciencia y fe.

 

-

 

“Enjolras! There you are!” Grantaire shouted, grabbing his hand and pulling off to the side of the crowd, rushing around them. Enjolras’ eyes were frantic, his eyes wild and hair twice the size it normally was, his breathing was heavy and the smell of sweat, cheap perfume and alcohol still lingered on them both from the club. But to Grantaire he was beautiful, alive and avenging, a God in action.

“I’ve got to go, let me go!” Enjolras shouted at him, pulling his arm out of Grantaire’s grip as if it hurt to touch him. 

“I’ll get you out of here.” Grantaire promised, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t need anything from you, I can find my way home without you.” Enjolras argued, seeing the bruise forming on Grantaire’s cheek, the bruise he’d gotten for him, for hitting Montparnasse. He turned away, not wanting Grantaire to see him cry again.

“But I need you.” Grantaire’s tone was desperate, pleading, lonely, heart-breaking. Enjolras hated the affect it had on him.

Enjolras turned and looked at him, really looked at him. He could see the tiredness and stress in his eyes, see the loneliness that had eaten away at him since his mother died almost a year before. Grantaire was a sociable creature that much had been evident from their childhoods, the brunet was always with friends, talking, laughing, rapping whereas Enjolras had been solitary, alone, studying with the occasional break when his sister wanted his attention. And, now Grantaire had lost his job, his income, his way to make his dreams come true. All because of Enjolras.

“Why?” Enjolras asked, hating the way his voice broke, the way Grantaire’s sadness made him want to sob, the way after all the shouting and yelling, his father’s disapproval. He wanted to kiss Grantaire, wanted to hold him, look after him, make his fears and unhappiness go away. 

“I just do. You make me a better person, happier, more of a believer, kinder. You make me think I can do this, get out of the barrio, feel good about myself, have a future in the world you want to create. And, you’re so kind and smart and funny – I think I’ve always needed you, needed to see you succeeding, needed you somewhere in my life, motivating me without realising, inspiring me, pushing me forward. I can’t explain it.” Grantaire ran a hand through his hair, growling under his breath, not breaking eye contact, “Marius said I’d turn into him when there was someone I had a crush on, but I’m not, I’m telling you now, I guess. I just. Seeing you in the garage yesterday, spending time with you is the happiest I’ve been since ma mère passed on and I really want to do it again. I really want-”

Enjolras didn’t get to hear what he wanted, because he’d dived forward, his arms going over Grantaire’s shoulders, their chests together, eyes locked. Grantaire’s arms went around his back instinctively, pulling him closer, protecting him from the people pushing past them, too preoccupied with their own selves to notice them.

“Can I kiss you?” Enjolras breathed. 

Grantaire smiled, “Hell yes.”


	2. Act 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I just want to apologise for anyone who read this before the second part was added for the quality of the first chapter. It was absolutely terrible and I'm so sorry for that. Since then I've gone through it completely and rewritten a lot of it, so it should be better.  
> Let me know if there are any mistakes please.
> 
> Also since then I've seen the West End production and honestly, it's amazing, I have no words to describe how incredible it was. It was just surreal, I teared up so many times I lost count - and it's really cheap if you're under 25 so definitely go and see it, it's just the best. I really want to go back and see it again because oh my god. All the cast was amazing and the performance of 'Enough' was like a literal volcano going off, it was insane. Go see the show.

Grantaire smiled, stretching in the early morning sunlight, already warm and only promising to get hotter. He was aware his hair was a mess, that his clothes were rumpled but he found he didn’t care. Only the occasional care drove past or the odd pedestrian, an older man walking a dog, a girl walking back from her night out in worse shape than him. 

He heard the bed creak in his room, heard as Enjolras stretched, yawned, padded over, behind him. He felt the slender arms wrap around his bare waist, felt his own t-shirt against his back as it swamped Enjolras’ gangly limb, felt the lips brushing his back, the tickle of hair and eyelashes over his skin. He smiled, held Enjolras’ arms against his skin and turned, leaning back on the railing of his fire escape. 

Enjolras’ curls were maybe crazier than his own, looking like a riot on his head, a tangled field of golden corn, his eyes were bright and sparkling as he beamed at the brunet, taller by a few inches. The blond kissed his cheek, resting his head on the brunet’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as Grantaire held him closer, rocking them back and forth. Last night had been a roller-coaster of emotions for both of them, but it didn’t seem to matter after their night together.

“Buenos dias.” Enjolras muttered.

“Good morning.” Grantaire smiled back, brain translating immediately. 

“See you know Spanish.” Enjolras told him, turning his head so he could be heard, his nose toughing Grantaire’s neck, his breath making goose bumps spring. 

“Not much.” Grantaire replied, pulling him closer. “And mostly just swears, I do work with taxi drivers.”

“Esquína?” Enjolras asked.

“Corner.” 

“Tienda?”

“Store?”

“Bombila?”

“Lightbulb.” 

“Puerta?”

“Door?”

“Four out of four, that’s more than alright.” Enjolras smiled, kissing him gently, tightening his grip on the brunet. He didn’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable, so happy, so loved.

“Teach me some more?” Grantaire bit his bottom lip.

“You just think its sexy when I speak Spanish.” Enjolras teased him, pinching his hips lightly, a sleepy smile on his face and yeah, Grantaire could live in this moment for the rest of his life quite happily. 

“You caught me.” Grantaire laughed, placing a kiss on the end of the blond’s nose.

“Fine,” Enjolras relented with a smile on his face, finding it hard to be mad with Grantaire, when the memories of their night together were still so fresh on their skin, “Calor?”

“Heat.”

“Anoche?”

“Last night?”

“Dolor?”

“Pain.” 

“That’s right.” Enjolras’ voice was soft, eyes open and raw and Grantaire was hit with guilt and shame and worry. 

“I’m sorry.” Grantaire spoke, “I was mad and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sorry.” 

“You made it all okay.” Enjolras told him, looking into his eyes and meaning it, an idea sparked in his mind and he carried on their impromptu lesson, “Llámame?”

“Call me.” Grantaire seemed more confident now, more sure of his Spanish skills. It was adorable, he stood a little straighter, smiled a little brighter, spoke with something else in his voice. Enjolras had known he knew more than he though he did, being surrounded by the language a lot of the time made you pick up little bits. 

“Azul?”

“Blue.” 

“Ámame?” 

“Love me?” Grantaire’s voice wavered, eyebrows drawing in, crumpling in a way that made Enjolras want to smooth them out, he loved his eyebrows, thick and slightly overgrown, dark against his tanned skin and so expressive. Enjolras could tell stories with those eyebrows. Hundreds of stories.

“Maybe I do.” Enjolras whispered, eyes locked onto Grantaire, tightening his hold on his, voicing the feeling of birds soaring his chest, the feeling of freedom and acceptance and, yes, maybe love. Maybe.

“How do I say kiss me?”

“Bésame.” Enjolras laughed. 

And Grantaire pulled him forward, their mouths slotting together, Grantaire’s hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth, eyelashes against his cheek. Enjolras hummed his approval, deepening the kiss, savouring the taste and feel of it, how had he never done this before last night? It was great, no it was awesome. He never wanted it to stop. 

But it had to, there was a small thing such as breathing that he needed to do and honestly, he wanted to live as long as he could with Grantaire at his side. They pulled back, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes.

“Enjolras, I don’t know what to do now I’ve found you.” Grantaire whispered against his lips, odd eyes locked onto Enjolras’ hazel ones. 

“Abrázame, hold me.” Enjolras told him, “Kiss me, love me. Forget about your worries, your fears and live in the moment with me.” 

“What will your dad say?” 

“He can say what he wants, but this is our choice and we choose each other right?” Enjolras bit his bottom lip, unsure of Grantaire’ feelings for him. 

“Yes, I choose you, if you’ll permit it.” Grantaire replied instantly, “I think I’ve always been a little in love with you, but I didn’t realise until you came home and I spent time with you and now, now you’re here in my arms and last night was amazing, but I want to make this a habit, I want us to be a thing. I choose you.”

“I choose you. Enjolras smiled dopily, “I can’t claim to have always been a little in love with you, I had work that distracted me, my father’s expectations, worries of what others thoughts, so I supressed it, but I know there was always a part that wanted you around, wanted to spend time with you, to shrug off my studies and walk around with you – maybe that’s kind of the same thing.” 

“Maybe.” Grantaire echoed, smiling at him. 

“But now, I don’t care what they say or think or expect anymore - Dad, Chetta, anyone. I just want to spend time with you, I chose you. I’ll always chose you.”

“Bésame.” Grantaire spoke, voice soft, eyes softer. Enjolras wanted him so much.

Enjolras complied.

 

-

 

“Whichever hijo de puta did this will pay.” Musichetta snarled as Marius walked back out onto the street. In the panic the night before the bodega had been broken into, there were huge holes in the glass of the door and window, cracks spider-webbing across it all. The shelves were mostly bare and what was left of the stock was on the floor in the broken glass, the counter tipped over and the till wrecked. Luckily Marius didn’t keep the money from it there. 

“It’s just stuff, it can be fixed.” Marius shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, I’ll have their heads for this, their bones with be jewellery and their skin made into a coat.” Musichetta snapped, a forest fire burning in her eyes, words thick with the Spanish accent she never quite lost or kept under control when she was furious.

“It’s fine.”

“At least let us help you.” Éponine spoke, standing from where she’d been gathering rubbish and putting it in the bin bag from Musichetta’s salon, her back cracked as she did this and she smiled at the feeling. 

“Courf’ and I will do it. It’s your last day in the barrio, I don’t want to ruin it.” Marius told them, meaning it, they deserved a day off, not helping him clean his mess. 

“Will be if the agent ever turns up,” Musichetta growled, “For now. We have curses to put on whoever did this. Curses on their mother, their father, their children, curses on them all.”

“Go pack up, we’ve got this.” Marius told her.

“If you need anything call okay?” Éponine told him, touching his arm gently, looking into his eyes with her own dark brown ones. They were kind eyes despite her troubles and they felt like they were searing his soul. Éponine or Cosette. He couldn’t pick.

“Okay.” He nodded, “Come and say bye before you go. And don’t let ‘Chetta curse anyone again, you know how it turned out last time.”

“Obviously.” She smiled. “To both the things.”

“Obviously.” He replied. 

Musichetta watched them from the door and smiled, letting them just stare before clearing her throat, drawing their attention to where she was lent against the salon door, “Come on ‘Ponine, I’ll need you help to get the dryers out.”

Éponine rolled her eyes, but followed her into the shop anyway. And Marius watched her go, unsure of so many things in his life. So many.

“I cleared up the glass.” Courfeyrac spoke from the doorway into the bodega.

“Thanks.” Marius smiled. 

“I just wish I’d stayed so I could’ve stopped this from happening. But it was getting rowdy and Jehan said it wasn’t safe.” Courfeyrac looked so defeated and upset, Marius wanted to hug him. 

“The shop and the stock are just things, things can be replaced Courfeyrac, you’re not a thing, you can’t be replaced. You did the right thing going with Jehan, you stayed safe, you mean more to me than the shop.” Marius told him.

“Stop getting all sentimental on me.” Courfeyrac protested, but he was smiling.

Marius grinned back, “Alright, get back to work then.”

“And the slave driver is back.” Courfeyrac laughed but went back in to board up the windows. 

Marius dealt with the pavement, cleaning up the rubbish and putting it in the bin bag. It helped him forget all he’d felt last night. The jealousy and anger as Cosette danced with everyone but him, the joy when they danced together, the shock as the lights went out and the confusion and panic when they didn’t go on, the struggle to get out of the club, the suffocating night air, the run to get to Abeula’s, the guilt of leaving Cosette. The exhaustion he felt now. 

“Merde.” A lilting voice spoke, “So it’s true.”

“Cosette.” Marius scrambled up to his feet, dropping the rubbish into the bag.

“I heard it’d been trashed but I didn’t quite believe it.” She commented, eyes on the shop and not on him, ouch, he deserved it, he knew that. 

“Do you want a coffee?” Marius asked, “On the house?”

“You’ve got real stuff to deal with now, Marius. We both have.” She looked at him, sadness and disappointment in her eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“My phone was ringing all night.” He told her, “News about the shop. I guess people care more than I thought they did, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” She shook her head, “One person rang my phone last night, one, and it was my father. No one else cared if I was okay or not, not my friends, not the guy I was supposed to be on a date with-”

“Cosette, I was going to call.” He bit his bottom lip, “I didn’t mean to leave you but Abeula-”

“I understand, Marius, I’m not blaming you. Any of you, there are more important people, there always will be.” She turned to go, but stopped and looked back at him, “What I am mad about is that not even my own twin - my own flesh and blood, my last actual relative - called me. And now I can’t find him, Enjolras didn’t come home, he’s not answering his phone, we’re worried sick.”

“I’ll keep a look out.” Marius said. 

“Thanks.” She said and then walked away.

So much for a future with Cosette.

 

-

 

“Marius? Are you okay?” Abeula asked as he entered her apartment.

He was paler than usual despite the heat, the violent fury of the sun beating down on him and looked so tired and fed up. She pulled him into a hug and he crumpled against her as she rocked him back and forth. She was reminded of when he was a child, having a bad day, he always came to her for comfort. She’d make the special biscuits her childhood had been full of and he’d talk it through with her. 

“We cleaned up most of the bodega, we gave up because the sun is too hot.” He spoke with the tone of someone much older than himself, someone who was her age. “I saw Cosette.”

“Yes?”

“They’ve lost Enjolras, can’t find him anywhere and she’s mad I left her last night.” He shrugged, leaving Abeula’s embrace to stand by the counter as she continued making lemonade. They needed it on a day as hot as that.

“You should have brought her here, she’s always welcome.” Abeula told him.

“I lost her and you needed me.” He answered.

“El tonto, she needed you too.”

"Maybe.”

“I know.” Abeula answered, looking at him, trying to get him to understand what she had been telling him for far too long, “Éponine needs you to, in some way. Talk to them both and save yourself el dolor.”

“Well it doesn’t matter now, what are you doing with the money?” He asked. 

“Well, terico for you, tercio for me and the last to Courfeyrac, no?” She glanced at him, “Then we can go to Corsica and the Canneries, find home.”

“There’s a beach near where my parents lived we can go to, they told me about it a lot, we could set up a shop or a bar and spend our days in the sun. They went there a lot before I was born, before they passed on leaving me here with the store. They told me a lot about home and when they died it just felt like parts of a dream I don’t really remember.” Marius had never told anyone that, he’d never really spoke about his parents but Abeula had known them, had looked after them despite everything. 

“We’ll go, dream of the sun and the sea and the stories we’ll make.” Abeula smiled. 

“I’m going to miss so much about this place though.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The debt I guess of the bodega hanging over me, the morning customers, Courfeyrac, the salon across the road, R popping in, Feuilly there helping me open up every morning, Cosette and Éponine.” Marius pressed his lips together. What was he supposed to do with his life? “Do you ever wonder if this is home?”

“Home is anywhere that as an impact on you.” She answered, then looked at him, “We can always come back.”

“No, maybe, everything is changing, I don’t know how I’d feel if we stayed.”

“Then we’ll go and we’ll tell the world of here and find your island, your beach. We’ll be okay, letting go is normal.” She told him. “Paciencia y fe.”

“I know.” He smiled, “I know.”

 

-

 

“I saw him at the club but not since then.” Cosette’s voice filtered down the to Enjolras, he squeezed Grantaire’s hand in his as he led him along the corridor. Grantaire squeezed back. “He didn’t call last night.”

Enjolras paused in the corridor to the kitchen, indicating to Grantaire to stay behind whilst he went into the kitchen. He blinked seeing Cosette and Valjean were sat around the table with Javert taking notes in his book, dressed up in his uniform. They looked as they ever did, maybe Enjolras had expected some kind of huge change after his night, but it hadn’t happened. The police inspector looked up and his eyes changed. 

“I don’t think we’ll be needing to file the report.” Javert told them, flipping his notebook closed and that was the moment Enjolras felt the tension in the room. 

“Pourquoi?” Valjean asked, looking at Javert with such an intensity – Enjolras had no clue what was going on there. 

“Hi.” Enjolras scrunched his nose up, “I’m sorry, I lost track of time and-” 

“We thought you were dead.” Cosette exclaimed, eyes filling with tears – anger, relief, worry. Enjolras felt guilty causing her to go through that, but then he glanced at Grantaire who was looking at him with so much affection and support, it subsided. 

“Where the hell were you?” Valjean roared, getting up from the table with such anger in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to hit Enjolras and for the first time the blond was scared of his father. 

“He was with me.” Grantaire spoke, walking out next to Enjolras, their hands joining automatically. Grantaire squeezed his hand tightly, reassuring Enjolras he didn’t have to go through this alone. 

“I told you to stay away from my son.” Valjean glared at him. Enjolras moved slightly in front of Grantaire, as if to protect him from his father.

“You know me, Boss, you know what I’m like who I am, you know I’d never hurt your son, I’d never hold him back or make him stay with me, you know I’m a good person.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to date my son.”

“We’re not that different, we tie the same type of knot in our ties, we drive the same type of cars, you’ve known me since I was a kid so I don’t understand why you don’t approve of me, I don’t understand your issue with me Boss.” Grantaire shook his head. 

“Don’t call him Boss.” Enjolras spoke, “When he doesn’t show the same respect.”

“You’re not going to see my son again; you don’t fit with us.”

“Why?”

“You will never be a part of this family.” Valjean yelled. 

Grantaire just stopped, clenched his jaw and his fists and shook his head, he looked at Enjolras, expression soft, “If you want me to stay, Enjolras, I will but I think it would be best if I go. I seem to be making things worse.”

“I understand; I’ll find you after. I promise.” Enjolras kissed his cheek, squeezing his hand to show him his support before letting the brunet go.

“No, you won’t.” Valjean told him.

“Bye ‘Sette, bye Javert.” Grantaire told them, “See you Enjolras.”

And with that Grantaire went back down the corridor shaking his head as he went. Enjolras looked at his father, appalled as the door slammed shut. He didn’t understand why Valjean couldn’t give Grantaire a chance, why he couldn’t see the goodness inside the brunet, the determination and beauty that he hid under layers of cynicism and pessimism. 

“Why do you shut him out?” Enjolras asked, unable to contain all he felt, he clenched his fists and squared his shoulders, standing tall and strong. 

“Why do you disobey me?” Valjean shot back, mirroring Enjolras pose, eyes cold and foreboding.

“Why can’t you just- You’re so-” Enjolras broke off, so many thoughts and things he wanted to express running through his mind as his father shouted back.

“You went against what I said, you’ve let us and your mothe-”

“OH MY GOD! ENOUGH! ASSEZ!” Cosette shouted, stunning the two of them with her sudden outburst. They’d been too focused on each other to see her climbing rage, to see the fight in her eyes. “Listen to me!”

“’Sette.” 

“Nope, nada, non, enough, I’m sick of you two fighting, so shut up and listen to me.”

“Cosette.”

“Carajo, no, Jean, no.” Javert exclaimed, “Listen to your daughter, she has the most sense right now.”

“Merci Javert.” Cosette smiled sweetly at the inspector before whirling on her father and brother, her eyes were deadly and they both paled and kept their mouths shut. “Right, let’s start with you, Dad, you’ve pushed us both away.”

“Cosette.”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. The way you treated Grantaire was not acceptable. You were rude and unkind and I’m ashamed of you right now. You know him, you know he’s a wonderful person, you taught him most of what he knows, you inspired him throughout his life and you shut him out and deny him! It’s not fair!””

“You sounded like your father.” Javert added, using words he knew would cut to the man’s heart directly, “You know what he was like, that old son of a bitch. Grantaire is a good man, he’s honest, he has no record and he’s always helping others.”

“He might be a bit on the wild side but he’s funny and kind and he thinks the world of Enjolras, he always has. If anyone is going to treat him right it will be R, he loves Enjolras so much, it’s plain to see. There’s not going to be anyone better.” Cosette told him. “As for the business, we make decisions as a family. You’ve always consulted us before even when we were seven, you’ve always wanted our opinion so, selling the business without talking to us is not okay. You always taught us when we have a problem to come home, but you went off by yourself and made it all so much worse. You told us to talk about it as a family and together we’d get through it.”

“If you go on like this then one day neither of them is going to be here and you’re going to wonder why. It’ll be because you’ve driven them off with this, rushing into things without thinking them through.” Javert said. “And I might not stay around if you act like this. I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry.” Valjean confessed, his shoulders sagging. 

“Yeah, damn right you’re sorry.” Cosette muttered, she then turned her eyes to Enjolras and he just wanted to shrink away. He had forgotten how scary his sister could be, since most of the time her anger was unleashed on everyone else but him, “And you, don’t think you’re getting off the hook. You stayed out all night.”

“Oh my god.” Enjolras rolled his eyes because really? She did it all the time, “Cosette, it’s hardly-”

“No! I’m talking now. You scared us you know that?” Cosette snapped, “You didn’t call or text to let us know where you were, you could have been dead, you could have been in the hospital, we had no idea, do you know how terrifying it is? There was a blackout, we couldn’t see and there was so much panic, so many people shoving and kicking and shouting and swearing and we couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras sighed. 

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to Dad.”

“What?” Enjolras frowned. Why should he?

“He doesn’t sleep when you’re not here Enjolras, for this whole year he’s been fretting and nagging and worrying about you. He’s been cranky and unbearable. He’s been a mess.” Cosette yelled. “He’s always wondering if you’re okay, always asking when is suitable to check in and stupidly, we both trusted you to come to us when you had a problem. But no, you violated that and hid for months.”

“And he’s worked his whole life for you both to go further, so much harder then you’ll ever know.” 

“And he can’t admit when he’s wrong, who does that make you think of?” Cosette asked Enjolras, “You’re so alike, you deserve each other. For months you lied Enjolras to us, to our friends. What made you think we wouldn’t try to help you? You’re our family as frustrating as you might be, we’d do anything and everything for you, Enjolras, you know that. So why didn’t you come to us? Why did you hide away from us? You’re never on you own as long as we’re alive. Leave Grantaire or take Grantaire but as long as you always come back to you family, it doesn’t make a difference.”

“Cosette.” Valjean opened his mouth – once again the object to Grantaire. 

“No, no, no! Enough lying, enough screaming! You need to sort this out between you, I’m actually done, you’re as bad as each other. I can’t believe you both. Enough okay? Enough. I’ll see you later but enough! Enough!” Cosette shrieked and then got up and stomped out of the house, slamming the door after her. 

“Well, I’ve got work to do.” Javert downed his drink and left too, much quieter than Cosette had. 

Valjean just turned and looked at Enjolras. They stood for a few seconds then at the same time: “I’m sorry.”

 

-

 

Cosette stomped down the road to the salon, relieved when she saw Éponine and Jehan sat with Courfeyrac, Feuilly and Bahorel outside the salon. Éponine looked at her and waved her over, noting the expression on her face. 

Cosette was pulsing with rage at her father and brother, at Marius, at the heat, at the blackout, at the neighbourhood. She normally loved the tall buildings, the fire escapes, the cracked pavement and sunshine but right now she wanted to destroy it all. 

“Let it out.” The brunette called to her and she did, she sat on the floor next to her, slumped her head on Éponine’s shoulder and screamed. The other girl put her arm around the blonde, pulling her closer, rubbing her back in comfort despite it being too hot for contact. Cosette screamed and screamed and screamed her anger out.

“Well, hello to you too.” Bahorel looked at her once she’d finished and was ready to look at them all again.

“Sorry, hi, everyone.” Cosette looked at them and the shock on all their faces, ignoring the thumping of her heart and the way it ached, it was familiar, how she got every time around Marius, but he was nowhere in sight.

“What’s your damage?” Jehan asked, leaning against Bahorel who was plaiting his hair, his feet in Courfeyrac’s lap. His sunglasses were huge and covered in glitter and so very Jehan she would have laughed and complimented him had her mood not been so vile. 

“My dad and brother.” She answered with a bitter smile. “They too alike to see the damage they’re doing so I might have screamed at them both and then left.”

“That’s a good move.” Éponine smirked at her, eyes twinkling, dimples popping and the ache got worse and yes okay, that made sense, a lot of sense. She had a crush on Éponine too. She wasn’t surprised oddly enough. 

“It’s just too hot to do anything.” Cosette yelled, again into Éponine’s shoulder. 

“Oh Dios mío.” Musichetta spoke from where she was leaning against the door way into the salon, “What’s this tonteria I’m hearing? Since when were we scare of a little heat?”

“Since it’s the hottest day of the year.” Courfeyrac told her.

“And we have no electricity.” Cosette added. 

“They reckon it won’t be on for another day.” Musichetta informed them, “You know what my favourite thing about living in Puerto Rico was?”

“What?” Bahorel asked.

“That there was no snow but the coquito would flow and ah, it’s so good, we sang and danced and had a carnival! All the businesses are down and we’re all about to go our separate ways, why don’t we have a carnival del barrio?”

“But the effort.”

“Nope, Courfeyrac, up! Get off your butts, Avanza!” Musichetta snapped her fingers, “Carnaval del barrio! Carnaval del barrio! Carnaval…”

“Del barrio!” Éponine and Jehan chanted, following her instructions and pulling the others up too, “Carnaval del barrio, carnaval del barrio.

“Carnaval!” Bahorel cheered and then they were singing, all of them, loudly. 

“We don’t need electricidad!” Musichetta yelled, “Join the parranda!”

They sang in their group, belting out and they grinned when their friends and neighbours peered out of their houses or joined them on the street, singing, someone brought a battery operated music player, turned up full and they began to dance. It was an odd mix, celebrating all their cultures in a fusion of different moves and styles.

Musichetta smiled, grinning at the community she called her home, they all came from different places, their skin tones ranged as did their language and accents, they were full of stories and traditions, quirks and flaws but they were her family. Her crazy family. 

Musichetta turned to Cosette whose face was still lined with her grumpiness but she let herself get pulled into Musichetta and Éponine’s dance as they whirled her around and around. She was still frowning as she spun out of it. 

“Cosette, come back.” Éponine called, following her with Musichetta behind her, making a beeline through the crowd, fast on the smaller girls tail in her high heels. 

“I don’t understand why everyone is so happy, we’re sweating, we have no power, everywhere is closing, everyone is leaving. It’s a time to be sad, to be angry and grumpy but you’re celebrating.” Cosette yelled, stopping and turning to look at her friends, “This place is just getting worse by the hour.”

“Why, ‘Sette?”

“You can’t go to a club without having someone shove you or hit on you or there being a blackout or anything, you can’t do anything, it’s suffocating!”

“Oh por favour!” Musichetta yelled at the sky, “Don’t pretend Marius is you friend, you either Éponine, everyone knows he loves you both!”

“No, this isn’t true.” Cosette protested. 

“’Chetta please.” Éponine pressed her lips together.

“Have you both not noticed you get all your coffee for free? The way he looks at you? The way he goes red?” Musichetta yelled. They stood blinking and she rolled her eyes, yelling “I give up!” before stalking off to dance somewhere else.

-

Marius made his way out of Abeula’s door into the dancing crowd filling the long street. He saw a blur of colours, pinpoint his friends by it, they were in a circle at the middle. Musichetta, a rush of red, at least a head taller than the people around her, there was a whirl of purple, the same as Éponine’s shorts the ends of her hair, the sun caught the glitter on Jehan’s sunglasses, sending a sparkle of pink in his direction, Courfeyrac’s blue tank top, Bahorel’s green shirt seemed to glow in the sun as he danced and then, stood in a crowd of movement were Cosette’s golden curls. 

Marius made his way towards the middle of the group, grinning when he got close enough that Bahorel recognised him.

“Marius!” Bahorel shouted over the sounds of the radio and the singing and chants going on around them.

“Hey.” Marius smiled back, “Carnaval?”

“Del barrio!” Jehan crooned in his ear pulling the shop owner towards their group in the middle. 

“Guess what, listen, I have an announcement!” Marius shouted to them, they turned to him but kept dancing, “It involves large amounts of money somewhere in the range of ninety-six thousand! I am closing the bodega, Courf’ get all the left over stock and share it out, Abeula Lamarque won the lottery! We’re going to Corsica tomorrow!”

“Oh my god!”

“Well done!”

“Congrats Marius!”

“Everything is changing today!” Musichetta yelled, grabbing Éponine’s hand and pulling her towards Marius, grinning at her, “Marius is on his way! We’re getting out of the barrio!”

“Off to a better place.”

“Look at Cosette’s face!” Musichetta pointed and sure enough the blonde was stood like a statue in the centre of the dancing crowd, looking like she’d just woken from a nightmare. 

In that moment she didn’t look pretty or delicate, she looked heart-broken and terrified. She looked as she had done, barely four being carried out of a taxi by her mother, her brother trailing behind, with wide eyes. Then again when her brother boarded the train to got to Paris, they’d stood waving him off but Cosette had looked miserable. Like her whole world was changing and she could find any way to stop it. 

“What is going on?” Grantaire asked, dancing towards them and landing in front of them with a flourish. He looked more relaxed, in shorts and a loose t-shirt, hair fluffy and puffy, though Musichetta saw tension in his shoulders and eyes. She knew how to fix that.

“Carnaval del barrio.” Musichetta danced, kissing his cheek, “And I could ask you the same thing, seen any horses today?”

“What?” He laughed.

“I’ve heard you and Enjolras went for roll in the hay!” Musichetta laughed, dancing with him and he rolled his eyes grinning at her, pulling her into tango. She threw her head back and moved as they had done so many times before. Her hair fell down her back, tight curls bouncing on the air as she moved. 

“E and R, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, R and E, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” their friends sang around them as Grantaire pushed and pulled Musichetta around, her hair flying around, heels clicking on the road as they moved. 

“But if you close the bodega the neighbourhood dies!” Courfeyrac yelled at Marius who was still dancing around with Jehan. “Marius, they’re selling the dispatch and the salon is closing, the lights are never going to come back on. We’re powerless. And you’re all dancing and singing and celebrating and this place is just dying, we’re dying.”

“Courf’.” Marius stopped dancing, “Yeah, we’re powerless, are you going to let that stop us? Light a candle, there’s nothing here that we can’t all handle.”

“I’m not being funny, Marius this is serious.”

“She’s giving you a third of the money.”

“What?” Courfeyrac stood stunned.

“Abeula, she’s giving you a third of the money. And yes, you’re right, maybe our barrio is dying, maybe we’re powerless, maybe this neighbourhood’s changing and maybe this is our last night all together, maybe it’s not, who knows? But you need to choose how to face it, waste it when the end is close, go cry or burry you head in the sand or celebrate, party, enjoy it with your family!” Marius grinned, “Come on, dance! Jehan’s over there.’ 

And with that he pushed the younger one towards the beautician. He smiled as Jehan squealed, kissed his cheek and grabbed his hand, making Courfeyrac dance him, making him laugh and grin as he joined in. They weren’t together, but their friendship was nice to see. 

“Carnaval del barrio!”

Speaking of being together, he turned to see Cosette who still looked on the verge of temper tantrum, he saw Eponine, grabbed her hand and pulled her over to Cosette, she seemed surprised but followed without resistance. Cosette raised an eyebrow as they stood in front of her and Éponine too was wondering why she was there.

“Cosette and Éponine, let’s forget what could have been, what could have happened but didn’t and just dance, one last time whilst we’re all together.”

“Wepa!” Musichetta cried in their ears she and Grantaire danced passed. 

Cosette didn’t want to but with Marius looking at her so hopefully and Éponine raising her eyebrows, silently communicating with her she sighed, she let her bad mood subside and let the rhythm flood through her bones. She started moving and they both joined in, dancing together closely despite the sun that beat down on them.

For hours they danced and sang and cheered, drinks being passed along from the bodega as they laughed and bonded. They forgot about the blackout, their emotions and their problems and danced, enjoying the sun and their friendship, celebrating all their countries in their own way. 

-

 

“Marius.” 

Enjolras tracked him down in the street party, seeing his brown head with his sister’s and Éponine’s. He saw Grantaire see him and start towards him but he slipped through people, intent on his target. And yes, he knew that would be a problem, Grantaire would take that personally, but right then, he had other things to deal with. 

He moved through the crowd quickly, lifting people and slipping past them, making it a part of their dances until he got to the centre. 

“Marius.” He spoke, getting the shop owner’s attention, the dance he’d been doing with Cosette and Éponine ended and the three of them looked at him. “It’s Abeula.”

And with that Enjolras was moving through the crowd once more, only Marius was right behind him. 

 

-

 

“Atención, atención.” Valjean spoke over the radio playing from a car once the battery music player had died, his voice interrupted the dancing and the street stopped moving, “Roll down the windows, turn up the radios, let everyone know, un momento, por favour. Please drive slow, everyone needs to know that Abeula, oh god, Abeula Claudia has passed away.”

“Oh my-”

“But Abeula.”

“I-I can’t”

 

The door opened to Abeula’s apartment and Marius walked out, face pale and eyes sunken, Enjolras followed looking much the same. Their grief was clear on their faces, on the tear tracks and red eyes, the shaking hands and bitten bottom lips, the way they held themselves, as if to shut out the world. 

Marius looked up at them and spoke, “She was found and pronounced at the scene, the paramedic said her heart gave out – the stress and the heat and she never took her medicine. She went out in peace I think, but to her peace was anything, the stars, breadcrumbs, this barrio – she’d sing Albanza and raise the thing to god’s face, praise to this. The path was clear when she here, she was just here… she was just-”

“Abuela Claudia was well known in the barrio, she babysat many of us for starters,” Enjolras took over from Marius and the brunet was grateful, he couldn’t have gone on, “She made cookies and lemonade and helped us with our Spanish, she said hello every morning and goodnight every evening. She cheered us up when we were sad, she hugged us until our tears dried, she loved us and supported us when it felt like no one else did.

“She had an impact on our lives in one way or another, from the way she smiled and made our days to her motto ‘paciencia ye fe’ to the smell of her baking or the sound of her laugh. She was a wonderful character and we’re all lucky to have known her, to be touched by her life, so this is to you Abeula, in memory of you and all you taught us. Alabaza. 

“Alabanza, alabanza a doña Claudia, señor, alabanza, alabanza.” Enjolras sang, eyes to the sky, voice strong, “Alabanza, alabanza a doña Claudia, señor, alabanza, alabanza.”

“Alabanza, alabanza a doña Claudia, señor, alabanza, alabanza.” The others joined in slowly, repeating the mantra across the street, Marius smiled sadly at Enjolras, thanking him. “Alabanza, alabanza a doña Claudia, señor, alabanza, alabanza.”

And Enjolras just looked back and sang, “Paciencia y fe.”

 

-

 

It was later that evening that Enjolras was sat on the step to Abeula’s apartment, Marius beside him. Courfeyrac had been taken off to calm down with Feuilly and Jehan and the others dispersed, mourning in their own ways, a memorial lay outside Abeula’s house, flowers and photos and candles. Cosette had disappeared when the street dispersed as had Éponine.

Enjolras pulled one of the boxes onto his knee, fingers pulling out the papers on top and smiling at the memories. 

“My trip to school by Marius aged five – how have I not read this?” Enjolras asked, looking at his friend. The ‘book’ was a few pages of paper stabled together, written in crayon with illustrations that were of the quality expected of a five-year-old. It was endearing though, a snapshot into both Marius’ and Abeula’s life.

“Because I only got a tick minus on it.” Marius rolled his eyes. 

“Really, I think this is a solid tick, you drew pictures.” Enjolras smiled before placing it back in the box. “Dios mío, is that Musichetta?” He handed the photo to Marius. 

“And Bahorel, Bossuet and Jehan – it was Halloween, we were zombies.” Marius confirmed with a nod, smiling at the memory still clear and vivid in his mind. 

“This is great blackmail.”

“She thought it was unlucky to throw anything away, we have tons of boxes up there.” Marius gestured back up to the flat. 

“Can I look through them? And have the photos?” Enjolras asked, “So I feel at home even if I’m away at university.”

“Yes, of course.” Marius nodded, then he spoke, voice more cautious and thoughtful than before, “How much is your tuition; you could have some of the lotto money to pay-” 

“No, Marius, it’s okay, I don’t want her money, she’d have wanted you and Courf’ to have it, you were basically her sons. And I don’t know if I’m going back, but the photos would be nice, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Marius smiled, “I’ll get them now.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras looked up at him as he hurried up the stairs to the apartment. Before returning his eyes to the street, he smiled involuntarily as he saw Grantaire stood in front of him. “I’m sorry about earlier, I had to get to Marius.”

“I understand,” Grantaire told him, sitting on the floor in front of Enjolras, their feet touching, “I’m sorry for you loss, Enjolras, I really am, Abeula loved you so much and you loved her too, it’s feels wrong that she’s gone.”

“You lost her too.” Enjolras shrugged. “She kept everything we gave her, in these boxes. Our whole lives are here in her albums. Look, recognise these?”

He handed the brunet the Halloween photo of Musichetta and the others. Grantaire smiled, tracing a finger over it, recognising his friends and appreciating the blackmail merit behind it. 

“I used to come here most afternoons after school with Cosette. Abeula would make sure I did my homework, all of it, she could barely spell her name, but she’d look at it all, pretend she understood and then tell me “Beuno, let’s review, tell me everything you know’.” Enjolras spoke, eyes filling with water, it sinking in that she was gone. “She made cookies too and we used to eat them before Dad picked us up and pretend we hadn’t, it was our little secret.”

“What’s in this album?” Grantaire asked, picking out the green one.

“There’s a picture of her in the Cannaries, she had a doll made of rags and it’s in black and white but it’s her, undeniably. I’ve always wondered what she was thinking then, if she knew she was going that night to Spain, but going too far and ending up in France. She always told us that happened. I wonder what she dreamed of, if her mother had a plan for when they got here, if she knew what it would be like, did she tell Claudia to get ready to leave behind everything she knew? Did she pack their things, what made her come here? Why here?”

“Look,” Enjolras passed another folder to the brunet, “This folder is about mine and Cosette’s graduation, the program is in the best condition and she’s ticked off our names. There’s my dad when I left, Cosette, Marius, the street party. She put our lives in these boxes, and she’s gone, she’s gone. She left me, she left me with everything I know and now what do I do with it? What do I do?”

“Enjolras.” Grantaire put a hand on his arm but said nothing more, letting Enjolras know he was there for him, to be his support. 

“I’m going to make her proud of all she did for me, all Dad did for me, I’m going to thank them. I’ll accept Dad’s sacrifice, there’s no way to get out of selling the business, I’m going to have to redo the year, but I called someone who works there and explained and they said I could earn my scholarship back. I’ll only take on one job and read my books this time.” Enjolras explained. “I’ve got to do to thank her for everything I know.”

“I know.” Grantaire looked at him and then Enjolras realised they were both crying. He moved forward and kissed Grantaire their tears mixing, they kissed and kissed, but Grantaire pulled away, “Go tell your dad, I’ll see you later.”

“I need you.” Enjolras told him and it sounded like a promise, like a solid never changing fact. And Enjolras hoped that was true, he wanted Grantaire in his life for as long as he had left. 

“I need you too, now go.” Grantaire smiled.

And so Enjolras did.

 

-

“Cosette, Éponine, where have you been when Jehan and I needed you?” Musichetta asked, blocking the way into the salon with her hands on her hips, expression unimpressed. Formidably tall in her heels. 

“We had to get something.” Cosette answered cryptically, “Important. From the city.”

“Eh?” 

“We’re going to woo Marius.” Éponine piped up from behind the blonde, who turned to glare at her, she just rolled her eyes, “What? She was going to find out anyway?”

“You’re going to end the godawful mutual pining?” Musichetta raised an eyebrow.

“Sí.” Cosette nodded. 

“Finalmente!” Musichetta looked up at the sky, she kissed her fingers and raised them to the sky – it was very over-dramatic if you asked Cosette, but no one asked Cosette. “Gracias, gracias!”

“Oh stop.” Éponine rolled her eyes at their boss’ drama.

“No, actually, I have my own news.” Musichetta smirked, “You want to know?”

“Obviamente.”

“Spill.” Cosette prompted. 

“Fine,” Musichetta said, pursing her lips, keeping them in suspense, her eyes were sparkling as she looked at them both, she cracked a smile and let out a laugh, “Cosette has a new address.”

“What?” Cosette frowned at her.

“I co-signed on the apartment, on the condition you invite us all over for a housewarming cocktail party.” Musichetta winked.

“I- yes, obviously, how did you know that’s what I needed.”

“Marius swore me to secrecy.” Musichetta admitted, shrugging her shoulders, then she smiled and it was full of friendship and affection and Cosette wanted to cry under the intensity of it, “I told you, I will always help you if you ask.”

“I didn’t think you meant it.” Cosette replied, quieter. “I didn’t think we were-”

“I mean everything I say.” 

“So you care about me, about ‘Ponine, Jehan, our little barrio?” Cosette grinned, throwing herself forward to hug Musichetta, she tottered back on her heels but hugged Cosette back and then Éponine’s arms were around them and Jehan joined in as if he’d been summoned by the power of a group huge. 

“Yes, I love you all.” Musichetta laughed as they rocked on the doorstep, extricating herself seamlessly so the others followed and moving to the pavement “I only signed the paper, you’ll be paying the rent.”

“Thank you ‘Chetta, thank you so much.” Cosette smiled. 

“Well, now the happy is done and the hugging thank Dios, we have to get serious.” Musichetta looked up at the sign on above the door.

“I can’t believe this is it.” Jehan sighed, stepping out onto the pavement with them.

“We’re going.” Éponine nodded. 

“Speech, ‘Chetta?” Cosette asked, glancing at her above Éponine’s head. Musichetta would never admit it but her bottom lip was wobbling and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. For once she wasn’t this calm and collected gossip queen, but a woman just like them.

“Non.” She replied, “We’ll do it like a Band-Aid.”

“Rip it off quick?” Jehan raised an eyebrow.

“And you won’t even notice.” Musichetta finished voice wobbling. 

Cosette smiled sadly, she had so many memories connected to that building so much joy and happiness. They stepped forward, and together they pulled down the grate, covering their window and door, protecting their memories as best they could. They walked away together, arms slung around each other’s waists, taking comfort in their friendship. And if they cried as they went, only they knew.

 

-

 

“Dad.” Enjolras called into the house, running to the kitchen to see Valjean sat at the table, head in hands muttering to himself. “Dad, hi.”

“Enjolras, why aren’t you out with Marius or whoever.”

“I was, we looked through some of Abeula’s papers and I realised, I have to make you and her proud, I have to go back to Paris, to university and try again. I have to make you both proud of everything I know.” Enjolras told him, panting from his run, “You kept working, kept doing your best for me and Cosette, you never quit and if you didn’t, there’s no way I’m going to.”

“I’m happy you’ve accepted.”

“Oh I hadn’t finished; I have a condition.” Enjolras pressed his lips together.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll go back to university if you give Grantaire a chance, an honest, open-minded chance. He’s a good person, he’s kind and caring and I honestly think I love him, think I have for a long time. But you need to trust me and you need to give him a chance.” Enjolras told him, levelling his shoulders, straightening his back and looking Valjean right in the eyes.

Valjean shook his head, then he smiled and then his face cracked as he laughed, and Enjolras realised he wasn’t laughing to be cruel but laughing because he was proud, “Fantine would be so proud of you.”

“I need an answer.” Enjolras replied, though he couldn’t help but smile at that, from the glimpses of memory of his mother that was a compliment, she’d been kind and caring in his head, strong and determined though fierce, she put up and fight and stuck by her convictions. And she was undeniably beautiful even if she was half-starved and carrying two infants. That had been part of everyone’s fascination with her.

“I’m not happy about it, no one is good enough for you or Cosette, but I’ll give him a chance.” Valjean smiled, “I promise.”

“How can I repay you?” Enjolras asked, “For selling the dispatch?”

“When you get your degree and you change the world, you’re an investment, make me proud, okay?” Valjean smiled.

Enjolras grinned back, “Okay.”

 

-

“Marius.” Cosette spoke, she stood in the doorway of the bodega, evening sunlight making her hair shine golden. Only Marius couldn’t see her, he had his back to her, bent over cleaning, still cleaning. He’d accepted that he had no future with Cosette, he’d fly away and never see her again and that would be fine. He probably deserved that. 

“Cosette.” He nodded, but made no move to face her.

“I got you a present, me and Éponine when downtown to get it. Are you doing anything tonight?” Cosette bit her lips, raising her eyebrows at his back. 

“Cleaning.”

“Are you nearly done?”

“No way, have you looked at this mess?” 

“Well we have a date.”

“What?” Now Marius looked at her, turning his attention to her. He saw how nervous she looked, gripping the door frame for dear life, hair not perfect but wild around her shoulders and head, like a halo, one arm out of his sight as she bit her bottom lip, the same pink colour as the flowers on her dress. She looked beautiful and he was hit with a wave of regret.

“I invited Éponine too.” She confessed.

“So it’s a friend date?”

“No.”

“Well, okay.” Marius accepted because never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this. Never could this happen to Marius, he wasn’t this lucky. 

“’Chetta told me what you did for me and it’s so sweet, no one has ever, what can I say or do to possibly repay you?” Cosette asked, biting her bottom lip in that way that drove him insane.

“Just get out of the barrio and be happy.”

“I think I can do that. We had a bet right? About whoever got out of the barrio first? Well, I believe I owe you a bottle of cold champagne.” She smiled, moving it from behind her, to show him the bottle, she moved into the shop, pressing it into his hands.

“No.”

“Yup, cold champagne.”

“Did you go and get this?” Marius asked.

“I helped.” Éponine smiled, walking into the shop like she owned it. And she too looked beautiful, less nervous than Cosette, she was more guarded could hide it, but he saw it in her eyes and in the line of her smile. Her long hair fell past her crop top and brushed the top of her shorts and Marius wanted to tangle his hands in it.

“I don’t know if we have any cups, I packed them-”

“Tonight, we’re living life in the Now, we’re drinking straight from the bottle.” Éponine announced proudly.

“How do I get this gold shit off?”

“Marius.”

“AH!”

“Before we all leave town, before the neighbourhood changes and the signs get taken down, can we walk around and say our goodbyes?” Cosette asked, glancing over at Marius, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m trying to open this damn champagne, the twisty thing is broken.” Marius answered if he kept his attention on the bottle he didn’t have to look at them and see what he was going to give up. He didn’t have to cause himself more pain. 

“Let me.” Éponine took a step forward.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Just drop the champagne, okay-” Cosette spoke.

“You went to all this trouble to get this; I’m not giving up.”

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, Marius.” Cosette smiled, touching his arm, and taking the bottle from his whilst he looked at her. She placed it on the counter.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s a long day.” He sighed. 

“You should stay.” Éponine spoke up, looking out of the window onto the street, the salon was shut up and the dispatch has a sold sign across the door, everything looked less friendly, harsher around the edges. Her eyes shone in the evening light as the other two looked at her sunlight drenched form, at her short stature, curved figure. 

“What?”

“You could use the money to fix this place.” Cosette nodded.

“Very funny.” Marius said blandly.

“And it’s not like Courf’ has many role models now, we’re all leaving too and Enjolras.”

“Role models? What?”

“We just think that maybe your vacation can wait.” Éponine turned, looking at them both, face so honest and open and full of raw emotion they couldn’t begin to process what was there. It seems neither could Éponine. Normally so shut off and on guard, it was alarming to see all her walls ripped down, but both Cosette and Marius could get used to it, could see the beauty she held.

“Vacation? You’re both leaving too.” Marius frowned.

“Musichetta, Jehan and I are going to be working the next neighbourhood over, it’s not far to visit or come for your café con leche.” Éponine told him with an eyeroll. “Plus I’m still living here, I’ve got the kids to look after.”

“And I’m just going to the other side of the river, you can take a train.” Cosette looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Hell, you could walk it if you really wanted.” 

“What are you saying?”

“You’re going to leave the mainland and we’ll never see you again!” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You get everyone addicted to your coffee and then you up and go and-” Cosette broke off, closing her eyes as Éponine touched her arm, grounding her, calming her. 

“Why’re you mad at me?”

“We’re not mad.” Éponine told him. 

“We’re too late.” Cosette finished.

Then they moved in, each kissing Marius cheek gently. And Marius eyes widened, he felt his face heat as understanding flooded his brain. He wanted them both and they both wanted him. As soon as it hit they broke away and he just stared, brain malfunctioned. 

Cosette saw his face and hers fell, she turned and ran without another glance. Éponine looked after her before turning to Marius, expression hardened again and guard back up.

“Don’t fuck it up.” 

And then she too disappeared into the evening.

 

-

 

“Boss.” Grantaire nodded, standing by the door, looking into the dispatch booth where Valjean sat looking over the buttons. One last time. 

“You can call me Jean.”

“Okay.” Grantaire nodded, then added, “Jean.” 

“Is this about Enjolras?” Valjean asked, turning to look at Grantaire, scepticism in his eyes. “He’s going to leave in autumn, go back to university.”

“I know and he is part of it, but not entirely.” Grantaire admitted, “It’s mostly about you and me. I don’t know what your issue is with me, but I wish for your luck, maybe a recommendation. I’m going to start my own business, eventually. I’m going to go to night school and work at an apprenticeship and work up, but first I want to sort this out.”

“Go on.”

“My uniform is on the table with my keys.” Grantaire told him, “I had your back you know, through all these years and all I got was disapproval so now, now I’ve got my own back and Enjolras’. I know I’m not good enough for Enjolras, he deserves so much, so much more than me or anyone on earth, but I’d like you to give me a chance.” 

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not since he went to find you.”

“Hmm.”

“I just want a chance and if you can’t give me that, then I’m not going to leave Enjolras because of it, I love him and it’ll take more than your disapproval to change that.”

“My issue with you, is that you remind me of a younger version of myself.” Valjean admitted, “And I know what I was like at your age, just promise me, you won’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“I’ll try not to, bos- Jean.” Grantaire corrected himself.

“Alright. We’re good then, I’ll give you a chance.” Valjean smiled. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Grantaire grinned.

“Go, tell Enjolras what happened.”

“Thank you.”

 

-

 

“So I told my dad I’d go back to Paris as long as gave you a chance.” Enjolras told him as they settled on the fire escape.

They used to visit it all the time, it looked out onto the main road through the neighbourhood, they sat together, arms and shoulders touching like they had done so many times before. It felt right, so right to be there together again. They’d spent countless nights there talking until sunrise, so many afternoons together studying, debating, laughing until the sun went down. 

“I asked him for a chance too, I gave him my uniform and keys and asked then, before I found you.” Grantaire looked at Enjolras smiling. “He agreed to it. Though I’m thinking it was more you than me that did that.”

“Maybe. Tt’s just I’m serious about this, about us, I know we don’t have long, I am going back to university, but I am serious, I think we have something really special here and I need him to know that.” Enjolras smiled, taking Grantaire’s hand in his, kissing his cheek to try to prove his point.

“I’m serious about us too.” Grantaire grinned then added with a smirk, “Bésame?” 

“Siempre.” 

Enjolras laughed and then their lips were together and it was amazing. He felt as if he was made to kiss Grantaire, to feel the roughness of the brunet’s lips against his own, the slight burn of stubble, the tickle of his eyelashes, the smush of his nose. He thought about all the times he could have done this if he’d dared to think about Grantaire a little more, if he’d dared to just close the distance between them, how a little less hellish that year might have been if he’d had Grantaire to go to.

They broke apart and Enjolras smiled.

“You’re going back in the autumn right?” Grantaire asked, eyes full of apprehension, but there was affection there, a strong sense of determination and dare Enjolras say it? Hope.

“Yeah.” Enjolras nodded.

“I’m going to visit you in Paris as much as I can, I promise, but until then we’ve got the summer to make so many memories and enjoy our time together and just be.”

“Maybe we’ll have longer.” Enjolras told him, ever the optimist and Grantaire was grateful for it, grateful he thought they could survive the distance. 

“Maybe you’ll forget about me at university, when you’re on your own.” Grantaire countered, ever the pessimist. 

“I couldn’t if I tried Grantaire, I’m falling hard for you, really hard.” Enjolras promised, squeezing his hand, loving their skin tones together, his only a faction lighter and smaller but somehow right against Grantaire’s. “I’m going to think about you every morning and every night, every time I look at the sun or the moon or the stars, I’m going to think about you a lot. I found some pictures of you in Abeula’s folders, they’re going on my pin board when I get my dorm room and I want a ton of photos of us from this summer..”

“And I’ll think of you, I’ll wait for you when you’re gone, until you come home and we can be together again. I’m going to decorate my walls with pictures of you, sketches, photos, anything I get with you.” Grantaire squeezed his hand, “But if we do drift apart-”

“Grantaire.”

“No, it could happen, someone brilliant could steal your heart or we could crack under the pressure or I don’t know-”

“No, no that won’t happen. Te adoro, te quiero.”

“I just wanted to say that you’re going to change the world and that I am so proud of you, I’m always going to be in your corner supporting you okay?” Grantaire smiled and looked into Enjolras’ eyes with an intensity that made the blond cry. “I’m always going to feel this way about you and want the best for you and believe in you.”

“I’m going to always be in your corner too, I think I love you Grantaire.” Enjolras cried and then Grantaire was crying too and they were messes but they were messes together.

“I think I love you too.” 

And then they were hugging, Enjolras’ face in the crook of Grantaire’s neck, Grantaire’s arms around Enjolras’ back, holding him close, whispering reassurances in his ears. And Enjolras was so grateful to have this experience, this love no matter how bittersweet or painful, the good always made up for it. Always. Siempre. 

 

-

Marius walked along the streets he had done all his life for the last time. Though this morning felt different, it was his last, it was the final one. He fought the tears welling in his eyes and pushed on towards the bodega, he didn’t have time to cry not when he had a shop to shut down, a flight to catch, memories to forget. He looked up from the cracked, gum spotted pavement to see not one familiar figure but two, Feuilly and Courfeyrac. 

They had a radio playing an old bolero song, one of Abeula’s favourites. Hers used to get stuck and repeat phrases over and over again and she’d always said that was the best part.

“No te vayas, si me deja, sit e aleja de mi.” The woman’s voice sang, lonely and sad, “Seguirás en mis recuerdo para siempre, para siempre, para siempre.”

And yes, it was Abeula’s verison, Marius was hit by nostalgia, but why did Courfeyrac have it? Abeula had wanted Marius to leave the neighbourhood, had wanted to join him on the beach in Corsica and he was going to do that, so why did he feel so guilty leaving?

“Pare siem- para siem- para siempre.”

Marius paused, he hadn’t been noticed by either of the people up ahead, a breeze ran through the street, the morning light bounced off the fire escapes and Marius was filled with memories. Nights in the park at the end of the street, the salon now closed and dark, the dispatch with a sold sign across the door. Mornings setting up with Feuilly, talking to his regulars, Abeula. 

“Para siempre.”

Who was going to miss this?

Marius carried on shaking his head.

“Marius,” Courfeyrac called, “We fixed the grate.”

“Thanks for the grate, both of you. Have you been decorating the streets again Feuilly?” Marius did note the look the two shared, the guilt that flashed across their faces. 

“Well, you do have to commission an artist whilst his rate is still good…”

“What did you do?” Marius asked. 

“I’ve started a new series or sprays.” Feuilly started. 

“Show me.” Marius looked at them both.

Wordlessly they pulled the grate down and Marius stood staring at it, eyes wide, mouth open. 

They say your whole world can change in a second. One second. It’s a tiny measurement but it can be detrimental, a life could end in the second, a life could be birthed in a second. All your plans could be destroyed or made, you could fall in love, fall out of love. Everything can fall into place in a second, everything could fall out of place, you could make a friend or lose them, your mood could change or your clarity, you thoughts, your feelings. 

A second. The most underrated measurement. In a second your world could change completely. 

Marius’ did. 

“He hates it.” Feuilly sighed, disappointment filling his features, eyebrows dipping down, eyes dimming, mouth going down. 

“No, he’s forming an artistic opinion.” Courfeyrac reassured him, then looked at Marius, unsure. “Right?”

“Did you do this last night?” Marius asked.

“Yeah, Courfeyrac and I stayed out here all night, I worked on it and Courf’ kept me company.” Feuilly admitted. 

“That’s why got the record player out,” Courfeyrac confessed, “To remember Abeula and so Feuilly could really get her essence.”

“Well, there goes my flight.”

“What?” Courfeyrac asked, looking excited and worried and scared all at once. 

“Feuilly, get some more cans, I’ll pay.” Marius told him, eyes sparkling with ideas, then he pulled out his wallet and took out what he thought would be enough, “Wait, have the money now.”

“Why?”

“You’ve got to finish this and then you’ve got the other grates to do, I’m thinking the salon workers on one and the Valjeans on another?” Marius nodded over at the dispatch and the salon, “Courfeyrac, tell everyone I’m staying, okay, thank you and I’m sorry I almost left you okay, but I’m staying, I’m staying.”

“Thank you.” Courfeyrac grinned and then dived forward to hug Marius before running off with Feuilly just as quickly. 

And he was left to look at the grate, at the picture of Abeula that Feuilly had drawn there, so realistic he’d thought it was her, she was smiling, looking peaceful and so like herself. His eyes watered but he was smiling, plans formulating in his head as he looked at the image.

“I’m sorry Abeula.” He spoke to the image, “I’m sorry, I’m not doing what you want, but I am doing what’s right.”

He wasn’t going to open the shop that day, he was going to find Éponine, he was going to help Cosette move in, finally tell them what he wanted, he was going to thank Jehan for keeping Courfeyrac safe, thank them all, he was going to spend time with Abeula’s things, with Enjolras and Grantaire and he was going to stay. This was his home, not some place his parents had lived, home, as Abeula said was anywhere that had an impact on you. 

And this place, this crazy neighbourhood full of wonderful and amazing people, had had an impact on him. 

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these are spanish unless they say otherwise:
> 
> Beunos Dias – which is good morning  
> Esquína – corner - these are all written in the fic with their translation but I’ll add them here anyway  
> Tienda – store  
> Bombilla – lightbulb  
> Puerta – door  
> Calor – Heat  
> Anoche – last night  
> Dolor – pain – as you can tell I took most from the actual song Sunrise, because they sound nice together and get across the meaning of the roles more  
> Llámame – call me  
> Azul – blue  
> Ámame – love me  
> Bésame – kiss me – obviously this is one of the first things I learnt in Spanish  
> Abrázame – hold me  
> Hijo de puta – son of a bitch or motherfucker – I like to imagine that Musichetta’s language is very colourful  
> el tonto – fool or idiot – I imagine Abeula says it lovingly  
> terico – a third  
> Pourquoi – why in French  
> non – no in French  
> Assez – enough in french  
> Carajo – damn – I believe  
> Oh Dios mío – oh my god  
> Tonteria – foolishness – Spanish  
> Coquito – an alcoholic drink like eggnog that’s served in Puerto Rico at Christmas  
> Carnaval del barrio – neighbourhood carnival  
> Electricidad – electricity  
> Avanza – get moving  
> Parranda – partying  
> Wepa  
> Atención – attention  
> un momento, por favour – one moment please  
> Alabanza – praise to this  
> Alabanza a doña Claudia, señor, alabanza, alabanza - Praise Claudia – dona is hard to translate to English it’s a respectful honorific used with first names and a shift from the affection Abeula title  
> Paciencia y fe – patience and faith  
> Beuno – good, alright, okay – in this context it means alright or okay  
> Siempre – always  
> Te adoro te quiero – I adore you, I love you  
> No te vayas, si me deja, sit e aleja de mi seguirás en mis recuerdo para siempre -Don’t go  
> If you leave me, If you go away from me, You will continue in my memories for all time, Forever, Forever - it's the actual song from the show.
> 
> Again a huge apology for the rubbishness of the first chapter I did edit it and rewrite most of it and added in some scenes, so if you want to go back and see what's changed go for it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading, it's a fun au to write  
> You can find me on tumblr as beelze-bertha

**Author's Note:**

> What Google told me the words mean - if they're wrong please correct me and I can edit and adapt:  
> Bonjour – good day in French  
> Dzien dobry – there should be an accent aigu on the n but apart from that this is Polish for good morning  
> de miedo – scary in Spanish  
> Au Revoir – goodbye in french  
> Salut – hello in French, more informal than bonjour  
> Buenos dias – good morning in Spanish  
> Abeula – as far as I know it means grandmother and though Lamarque isn’t a grandmother, I feel like she basically adopted everyone in the play as her own and thus everyone calls her grandmother instead of her name.  
> Muy Buenos – a shortened version of good morning, good afternoon and good evening that can be used any time of the day.  
> Café con leche – this is a sweet milky coffee common throughout Latin America and though this is set in Toulouse, I feel like Marius would have it anyway  
> Paciencia y fe – patience and faith in Spanish  
> Adiós – goodbye in Spanish  
> No me diga – can mean ‘you don’t say’ or ‘get out’ used to express shock or surprise, I believe it to be Spanish.  
> Coño – a curse, google will be more informed than me  
> Casse toi – go away, fuck you – either depending on who you ask, I didn’t take French for six years and not learn to swear in it  
> Le Monde – means the world, it’s a french newspaper  
> Merde – shit in French, I’m all about cursing in foreign languages as you’ll be able to tell  
> Cabrona – bitch in spanish  
> Atención – attention in spanish  
> Rue de la Pomme, Lalande, Blagnac, Avenue de Rangueil, Parc du Sacré-Coeur, Route d’Agde, Marcel Doret – places in Toulouse that I picked randomly  
> Verdad – truth in Spanish  
> Mierda – shit or bullshit in Spanish  
> Mi amigo – my friend in Spanish  
> Chou – literally cabbage in French but it’s also an endearment  
> Sí – yes in Spanish  
> Embustero – fibber in spanish  
> Oui – yes in French  
> Chica – girl in Spanish  
> Merci – thanks in French  
> Ma puce – my flea in French, it’s an endearment, apparently  
> Oh mon Dieu – oh my god in french  
> Barrio – neighbourhood in Spanish  
> Inútil – useless in Spanish  
> Inutile – useless in French  
> Esa pregunta es tricky – that’s a tricky question in Spanish  
> Idéntico – identical or same – like ‘what’re you doing tonight?’ ‘cocooning myself in blankets and self-pity’ ‘same’ I think, correct me if I’m wrong  
> Pain au chocolate – like a French pastry with chocolate inside, they’re good warm because the chocolate goes all gooey  
> Ay bendito – I stole this from the no me digga lyrics on genius, it’s like bless you, aren’t you cute thinking you don’t care, also the notes on the taxi innuendo make my day  
> Cariño – Spanish, like darling or honey  
> Ay dios mio – oh my god/oh lord in Spanish  
> Timide – shy in French  
> Bién – okay in spanish  
> Wepa – normally yelled, meaning ‘all right’ ‘good job’ ‘congrats’ ‘yeah’ – mainly used in Puerto Rican communities  
> Salud – cheers in Spanish, can be when someone sneezes, it means good health  
> L’chaim – to life  
> Quieres bailar – do you want to dance in Spanish  
> Oye, qué pasó – hey, what happened, I couldn’t put the inverted question mark and it’s annoying me.  
> Ay dios – oh god, oh lord  
> Ayúdeme – help me in Spanish, please correct me if it’s wrong, there were several options on the website I used.  
> M’aider – help me in French, or at least the way I was taught to say it  
> C’est trop chaud – it’s too hot (hot damn) okay not the brackets but whatever.  
> Relajar – relax  
> dónde estás – where are you in Spanish, I think…  
> Aquí - here  
> Las estrellas – the stars in Spanish  
> España – Spain  
> Es bonito – it’s beautiful in Spanish  
> Es una pena – it’s a shame, Spanish  
> Tu primo – your cousin, tu is informal but since she raised him I think she can be informal  
> Ma mère – my mother or my mum
> 
> -
> 
> Here is the casting I've used:
> 
> Usnavi - Marius  
> Vanessa - Cosette AND Eponine  
> Nina - Enjolras  
> Benny - Grantaire  
> Sonny - Courfeyrac  
> Graffitti Pete - Feuilly  
> Abeula Claudia - Lamarque  
> Daniella - Musichetta  
> Carla - Eponine too I guess or Jehan  
> Kevin - Valjean  
> Camilla - kind of Cosette and Javert in one  
> Yolanda - Irma  
> I don't have a Piragua Guy actually now that I think about it and I added in extras  
> Joly is a city doctor  
> Bossuet and Bahorel work at the taxi place Valjean owns  
> Montparnasse and Babet moved in the year and petty criminal 
> 
> Well, that turned out longer than I expected, I'll work on the second half but it might be a while before I update. You can find my on Tumblr as beezebertha.tumblr.com if you want to talk about headcanons or anything, let me know if you enjoyed it or if any of the words are wrong.


End file.
